


In the Mirror of Your Eyes

by Spiderlass



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwobbit Frodo, F/M, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Male Pregnancy, Thorin Oakenshield: King Under a Massive Pile of Guilt and Self-Loathing, Timeline What Timeline, Trans Bilbo Baggins, though not traditional mpreg, trans guy Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-24 01:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15619149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlass/pseuds/Spiderlass
Summary: Bilbo returned to the Shire broken-hearted, though not quite alone, knowing only that Fili and Kili lived and the line of Durin was secure, so long as no one ever learned of the late King Under the Mountain's dirty little secret.Only, as it turns out, "late" wasn't a very accurate descriptor of one Thorin Oakenshield at all.Or, the one where Bilbo hears about ten thousand embarrassing stories from Thorin's childhood courtesy of Dis, Thorin is more guilt than Dwarf, and Frodo charms half of Middle Earth before his first birthday.





	1. Prologue: The Day Before You Came

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: references to a trans man being/ having been pregnant, Thorin being slightly possessive while goldsick.

“Master Baggins.”

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin, losing his grip on quite a few pieces of firewood in the process. Still, he turned to Thorin with a polite smile, not wanting to upset the balance of whatever barely mended relationship they had now.

Even if he was still recovering from the way that being pressed into Thorin’s chest made his heart race yesterday. This ridiculous crush was still stubbornly thriving, despite all the clear signs that Thorin hadn’t liked him much, and the last thing Bilbo needed was to give any indication that he had any feelings toward Thorin other than respect.

“Yes?”

Thorin stared at him. Bilbo blinked and arched an eyebrow.

“Thorin? Can I help you?”

Thorin blinked this time, then cleared his throat, folding his arms behind his back. It was nearly dusk now, but there was still enough light to see by, and if Bilbo hadn’t known better he would have thought that Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, was  _ blushing. _

“I... I simply. I wish to- to apologize again- no,  _ properly  _ for, for my past treatment. Of you.”

Bilbo blinked again, then smiled gently.

“Oh, that’s- well, that’s, I appreciate that, Thorin.” He cleared his throat once more, adjusting his grip on the firewood. “Although, my mother always said that the best apology is, ah, is changed behavior, so. I’d very much appreciate it if we- if you didn’t treat me that way in the future.”

Thorin’s eyes softened, his face smoothing out with obvious relief.

“I see.” He took a step towards Bilbo. “Master Baggins.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to assist you with gathering the firewood.”

Bilbo blinked, his eyebrows rising.

“You- wait, what? Don’t- don’t you need to, um, do... kingly things?”

Thorin’s eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement as he knelt down to pick up a few larger pieces of wood.

“I’d be a rather poor king if all I did was command, I think,” he answered as he stood up again, “and as you said, the best apology is changed behavior.”

Something in Bilbo’s chest fluttered, and he swallowed, turning away and picking up one more stick.

_ Get a grip, Bilbo Baggins, you’re not a teenager anymore, you’re close to middle age and- and he’s a king besides! _

“Um. Then, well,” he started as he walked up to Thorin, “would you mind holding these?”

Thorin nodded, holding his arms out to take the bundle Bilbo had already gathered. 

And, unfortunately, that was when Bilbo tripped over an exposed tree root, the bundle falling out of his arms and rolling off just as Bilbo landed on Thorin, who dropped his own small bundle in surprise and catching him.

Time seemed to freeze. Thorin’s heartbeat was clear in his ears, pressed up against his chest like this, and any other day he might have been more than alright with that position, since Thorin would probably just have yelled at him to be careful.

Now, though. Now Bilbo wished with all his might that he hadn’t left that creature’s ring in his pack. He would have given anything to disappear and avoid this situation entirely.

But alas, instead all he could do was slowly look up, heart pounding in his chest as he made eye contact with Thorin, who incidentally had his face  _ far  _ too close to Bilbo’s for his liking.

Or, rather, he liked the closeness quite a lot, but that was a problem in itself.

“... um,” he managed in a tiny voice, willing his knees not to buckle under that piercing blue-eyed gaze, “I... sorry, uh, about- about that, um, I... I didn’t mean to-!”

Thorin suddenly made an odd sound- if Bilbo hadn’t known better, he would have described it as a  _ whimper-  _ and leaned down, pressing his lips against Bilbo’s cheek.

Bilbo’s eyes widened impossibly further, his lips parting just as a rather red-faced Thorin pulled back, seeming as shocked as Bilbo was. 

“... my apologies,” Thorin murmured quickly as he released Bilbo, taking a small step back before turning on his heel and heading in... well, in a direction that Bilbo was fairly certain wouldn’t have led him back to their camp anytime soon.

It took a good few seconds for Bilbo’s voice to return to him.

“W... Wait!” He shouted, firewood all but forgotten as he started into the woods after Thorin. “Wait, just a- wait just a moment, Thorin!”

Thorin only seemed to speed up, streaks of silver gleaming in the last lights of day Bilbo’s only way of tracking him.

“Thorin, come on, you’ll-! You’ll get lost!”

Thorin still did not slow down, let alone stop. Bilbo grit his teeth, frustration mounting as he struggled to keep up with the Dwarrow.

“Would you  _ please  _ just stop and  _ listen to me,  _ you stubborn, handsome Dwarf?!”

That did it; Thorin stopped dead in his tracks, slowly turning around with wide eyes as Bilbo finally caught up to him. He was silent as Bilbo caught his breath, simply staring at him.

“What... what did you just...?”

“I called you stubborn, and, and handsome,” Bilbo started, his voice still a bit breathy, “because frankly, you  _ are.  _ Never in my life have I ever met someone even  _ half  _ as baffling as you, and I am counting  _ Gandalf  _ in that.”

Thorin managed to look indignant at that, though at the same time a bit crestfallen.

“Master Baggins, if- if your purpose is to reject me, I’m certain it could be done without insulting me.”

“Rejecting-! Alright, well, hang on now, because...” Bilbo swallowed. “Look, first I need this clarified. For Hobbits, kissing someone- well, really anywhere, that denotes a certain level of affection.”

Thorin stiffened, his cheeks reddening a bit.

A tiny bit of hope flared up in Bilbo’s chest.

“And, and kisses on the cheek specifically... when they’re not from one’s family, they generally denote  _ romantic  _ affection.” Bilbo cleared his throat, folding his arms across his chest. “So, then, my question is this: what does a kiss on the cheek mean for Dwarves?”

Thorin’s cheeks reddened further, and he cleared his own throat.

“... It is generally the same for Dwarves.”

Bilbo had to try very hard not to show the way his heart started to sing at that admission.

“So. You kissed me on the cheek because you feel... romantic affection for me?”

Thorin looked like he wouldn’t mind if a Warg snapped him up right about now.

“... Yes.”

“... for... for how long?”

Thorin shuffled, his shoulders slowly inching up to his ears.

“... I’m not sure.”

Bilbo blinked.

“You’re- you’re not sure? How are you not sure?”

Thorin seemed to be shrinking in front of him.

“It is... difficult to explain. There was- I found you to be...” Somehow he flushed even more. “I thought you attractive,  _ bewitching,  _ from... from the start, but I didn’t... I wasn’t certain how I felt about...”

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow as he recalled the boys of his youth long ago, back before he was... well, long before he was even ready to accept himself as  _ himself,  _ how they’d teased and taunted him, and his mother had told him...

“Oh, good Green Lady,” Bilbo muttered. “Are you telling me that you, a  _ king,  _ have been acting like a fauntling who doesn’t know how to handle a crush all this time?”

Thorin had the gall to look indignant at that.

“I-!”

“I cannot  _ believe  _ this,” Bilbo started, a chuckle bubbling up in his throat, “and did you actually think that I’d respond  _ positively  _ to that?”

The look on Thorin’s face turned to one of shame.

“I have acted immaturely, I will admit this. But I... I had no intention of...”

He trailed off, but his meaning was clear, and Bilbo’s heart began to sink. He swallowed, turning his gaze to the forest floor.

“You had no intention of telling me, did you?”

“... not like this, no.” He heard Thorin sigh. “I had hoped to... to wait until after we’d already reclaimed the mountain, so that I could court you properly.”

Bilbo blinked, eyebrows shooting up as his heart skipped a beat. He parted his lips as he looked up, words failing him once again.

“... c... court... court me?”

Thorin shuffled again, no longer looking Bilbo in the eyes.

“I... I will admit that this is a newer plan, but I cannot... I find myself unable to deny the fact that I want to court you. I had hoped that I could start from now, with simple things, and then perhaps you would consider accepting once the journey was...” Thorin trailed off, taking a step back, which was when Bilbo took a step forward. “But perhaps that was too optimistic. I have been unkind to you at every turn, and even if I had been kind to you, you still have your home to return to. It is wishful thinking that-!”

“Thorin,” Bilbo started gently, reaching out and putting a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Thorin, how would you ask to court me?”

Thorin blinked, his lips parting for a second before closing.

“I... what?”

“How do Dwarves usually begin a courtship?” He clarified.

Thorin blinked again, hope flashing in his eyes.

“It... I would give you a, a gift. Something... something with meaning to you. That you liked.”

Bilbo hummed, glancing around the forest floor and smiling when his eyes fell on a small patch of lilies.

“You know,” he started nonchalantly, “Hobbits are quite fond of flowers. I’ve always been partial to lilies myself.”

Thorin frowned, following his gaze before catching sight of the lilies. He glanced back at Bilbo, who gave him an encouraging smile, then swallowed, walking over to the patch and picking one. His eyes were almost glittering with an anxious sort of joy as he presented the flower to Bilbo, hand shaking slightly.

Bilbo smiled, taking the lily and smelling it before placing it in his coat pocket.

“Now, is there anything else I need to do to accept?”

Thorin was finally smiling back at him now, shaking his head as he put his hands on Bilbo’s cheeks.

“No, but... I would very much like to kiss you. Properly this time.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’d better, because if you don’t, I’m going to have to pull you down by your braids and-!”

He never got the chance to finish that threat, because then Thorin’s lips were on his.

 

* * *

 

Both Bilbo and Thorin were soaked through by the time that their barrel washed up on shore, although considering that they were both alive, out of Mirkwood, and snuggled up together tightly, Bilbo had far fewer complaints than he might have had otherwise. They were both coughing and spluttering as they got out of the barrel, Thorin’s arm wrapped around Bilbo’s waist as they plopped onto the shore.

“Are- are you well,  _ ghivashel?” _

Bilbo gave him a wan smile.

“Bit soggy, but other than that I’m- just peachy.”

That got a laugh out of Thorin, who leaned in and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“Barrels,” he marvelled, “I can’t believe you thought to stick us all in barrels!”

Bilbo flushed indignantly.

“I didn’t see  _ you  _ coming up with any better ideas!”

Thorin laughed again, then grabbed Bilbo and pulled him on top of him, leaning up and kissing him gently. Bilbo grinned against his lips, reaching up and lacing his fingers in his hair.

“I love you,” Thorin whispered when he pulled away, sounding almost reverent. Bilbo froze, his eyes going wide.

“You... you what?”

Thorin blinked, then turned a  _ very  _ interesting shade of pink, mouth opening and closing a few times. 

“I... um.” Thorin cleared his throat, glancing away. “I did not mean to say that. Aloud.”

The corners of Bilbo’s lips twitched.

“Oh, so you only intended to  _ think  _ it, then? Does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

Thorin’s cheeks reddened further.

“I... no, I... I meant it.”

Bilbo hummed, trying not to show the way his entire being suddenly felt light.

“You love me, then?”

“... Yes.”

He hummed once more, then grinned, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to Thorin’s cheek.

“Then it’s a good thing that I love you too, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin blinked, eyes wide with disbelief for a split second before a beatific smile spread across his face.

“You... truly?”

Bilbo laughed, kissing him on the lips.

“Yes, dearest. I love you.” 

Thorin barked out a relieved little laugh, leaning up to kiss him once more before flipping them over. Bilbo sighed, parting his lips slightly as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. 

It was then that Thorin’s lips moved to his jaw, making heat flare up low in his frame and giving him pause.

“Thor- oh,” Bilbo mewled, his toes curling as Thorin’s lips ghosted over his throat, “Thorin, wait, ah... here?”

“Mmhm,” Thorin replied, rolling his hips lazily, “unless you’re not interested?”

Bilbo flushed, shaking his head as his legs spread farther.

“That’s- that’s not the issue, exactly, but- we’re a bit, a bit  _ exposed  _ out here, don’t you think?”

Thorin lifted his head to look at him, eyebrow quirked.

“If I recall correctly,  _ you  _ suggested Beorn’s shed when we first coupled.”

Bilbo’s flush burned even hotter.

“I, well, that’s-!”

“And the meadow near his home was not exactly hidden away.”

“You-!”

“You also had no complaints when I pushed you up against a tree and sank between-!”

“Alright!” Bilbo finally snapped. “Alright, fine, so perhaps we’ve been reckless before, but now is-!”

“Uncle!”

Thorin scrambled off of him so quickly that Bilbo had to stifle a laugh. 

“I told you,” he murmured, earning a sharp look from his lover. “It’s alright, Fili, we’re both-!”

Something whizzed through the air just then- an arrow. Thorin got to his feet, pulling Bilbo up and running over to the rest of the company, who were currently being menaced by a Man with a bow and arrow.

Somehow, this led to them being given safe passage to Laketown, though it did involve fish.

“Look at it this way, Thorin,” Bilbo whispered as they found themselves in barrels once more, “maybe Laketown will have an actual bed for us.”

He heard Thorin stifle a groan.

“You will be the death of me, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo just grinned.

 

* * *

 

“What is that?”

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his seat, keeping his hands clasped tightly as he turned to look at Thorin with wide eyes as his lover stormed over to him.

“Th-!”

“In your hand!” Thorin thundered, his eyes sharp and dark with an emotion that made Bilbo’s stomach turn even more violently than it had been recently. Bilbo swallowed as he stood, hiding his hands behind his back.

“It’s- it’s nothing, dearest, just-!”

“Show me,” he demanded, taking a step towards Bilbo. Had he been the same Hobbit that started this journey, he probably would have fainted dead away if fixed with such a look.

Instead, he swallowed again, standing as tall as he could and looking Thorin right in the eyes as he brought his hand out in front of him and opened it.

“It’s an  _ acorn,  _ you great oaf,” he told him with no small amount of indignance. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden.”

Thorin blinked, his expression softening as some of the tension leaked out of his shoulders; in an instant, it was as though he was back to being the (admittedly slightly inebriated) Dwarf that had whispered sappy, affectionate nonsense in his ear as they made love in Laketown.

“You’ve carried it all this way,” his lover marveled, taking a step towards him and caressing his cheek. Bilbo smiled a little, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, well, I was planning on planting it in- in the garden. The one you promised me.”

Thorin blinked, the small smile playing on his lips fading into a frown.

“A garden.”

“Well, yes. I mean, it’s a lovely mountain, Thorin, but a hobbit needs fresh air. So I was going to plant this, so we’d always remember this journey, the good, the bad, the-!”

“You will have a garden, but you will not work in it.”

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow.

“What?”

Thorin’s eyes were dark, and one of his hands was gripping his shoulder tightly, bordering on  _ painfully. _

“You are to be my consort. You will be treasured, adorned with the finest gems, and you shall never lift a finger again.”

Bilbo swallowed, the urge to wriggle away from his lover’s touch rising as his stomach turned once more.

“I- Thorin, where’s this coming from? I don’t understand-!”

Thorin tugged him closer, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s waist.

“You need only understand that you are  _ mine, ghivashel.”  _ For the first time, Bilbo disliked the shiver that word sent down his spine. “You are  _ mine,  _ and no one shall ever take you from me.”

Bilbo tried to think of a response to that, though all he could think of was variations on “what the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you,” but then Dwalin came and told Thorin that the survivors from Dale were once again at the gate, and Thorin stormed off to meet them, yelling for everyone to follow.

He stood there for a moment, too shaken to do much of anything else. His mind reeled with confusion and fear, as well as anger burning in his gut. How- how  _ dare  _ Thorin speak to him that way, as if he were an- an  _ object!  _ Bilbo Baggins was not a pretty gem to be hoarded, thank you very much!

But... but Thorin had never looked at him that way before, never spoken that way either. Thorin had been so considerate since their relationship began, had never treated him as anything less than an equal until...

Until the gold. 

Elrond had said something, back in Rivendell, about Thorin’s grandfather losing himself to goldlust. That was what Balin had alluded to earlier, wasn’t it? That was why he hoped that the Arkenstone remained lost...

Bilbo’s heart clenched. The possibility that Thorin was losing himself the way his grandfather had was  _ terrifying,  _ but... but then, what else could it be?

Well, Bilbo didn’t know, and any ideas that he might have come up with were lost to a sudden and powerful wave of nausea, one that had him running yet again for the nearest chamber pot.

Perhaps the stench of dragon feces was making him more ill than he’d thought.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo’s heart lurched when he saw Thorin crumple to his knees on the ice. His feet seemed to move of his own accord, and before he knew it, he was kneeling by his lover’s side.

“Bilbo...” Thorin croaked out, attempting to reach for him.

“No, no, shush, don’t move,” Bilbo chastised as he tried to find the source of the bleeding. “Lie still, don’t- don’t strain yourself.”

The wound was deep, and the sight of it made Bilbo’s stomach turn, although that may have been thanks as well to the ever-present nausea that was starting to terrify Bilbo, because it was  _ clearly  _ not dragon poo-related, and well, his cycle was supposed to have started yesterday, but...

He shook his head, swallowing deeply. Now wasn’t the time for that, Thorin was hurt.

“Glad you’re here,” he heard Thorin mumble, and he hushed him in response. “I could not rest knowing I had never apologized...”

Bilbo’s heart lurched again, and he blinked back tears as he shook his head again.

“No- no, Thorin, don’t- don’t say such silly things, you’re going to be  _ fine,  _ you’re not going  _ anywhere.” _

Thorin’s eyes shined with warmth.

“I am unsure that decision is mine to make now, beloved.” His eyes were wet. “I am sorry, Bilbo.”

“Thorin-!”

“I am sorry,” he continued weakly, “that I ever said those things to you. You were only... you were trying to save me, and I, I hurt you for it... forgive me, for I was too blind to see... I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril-!”

“I chose this,” Bilbo interrupted firmly. “All of it. I chose to come on this quest, I chose to fight, I chose to- to court you, to... I chose  _ you,  _ Thorin, I’d- I’d choose you a thousand times. And I am  _ glad  _ to have shared in your perils, each and every one!”

Thorin smiled faintly as Bilbo took his hand, then coughed, panting with the sheer effort of it.

“I should... should wonder how Mahal blessed me with one such as you...” His fingers started to slip from Bilbo’s grip, too weak to hold on. “My love, my life... farewell, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo’s sight swam with tears as he caught Thorin’s hand again, pulling it to his chest.

“Thorin, stop, you’re... you’re going to be alright, don’t... don’t you  _ dare  _ say goodbye to me, Thorin Oakenshield!”

His lover smiled, a few tears slipping from his own eyes.

“Farewell, my beloved burglar. Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow.” Thorin’s eyes clouded over. “If more... if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo managed to choke out, his throat tight and his fingernails digging into Thorin’s palm. “Thorin, please, don’t... don’t leave me, not now. Not like this.”

His lover’s breath was shallow.

“But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell, my heart...”

“No,” Bilbo heard himself cry, “No, no, no, don’t you dare,  _ Thorin,  _ stay with me, damn you,  _ stay with me,  _ I can’t-! I need you, I can’t do this by myself,  _ please!” _

Thorin had gone still, only breathing shallowly, inconsistently. A sob tore out of Bilbo’s throat.

_ “Please...” _

The world around him seemed to fade away, and Bilbo found himself distantly aware of an eagle’s cry near his ear as he slipped into darkness.

 

* * *

 

“The princes’ll both be on their feet again soon enough,” Balin told him as they approached the entrance to the mountain. “Kili was definitely the worse off, but thanks to that Elf woman of his they’ll be right as rain before ya know it.”

Bilbo laughed a little, shaking his head. Tauriel had been camped out by the infirmary for hours after the battle, after carrying both Kili and Fili down the mountain, and now she and Kili were snuggled up in a bed much too small for her while Fili begged to be put out of his misery, because death was preferable to hearing his brother  _ giggle  _ like that _. _

“And Thorin, well, he’ll be returned to the Earth.”

Bilbo wanted to tell Balin that he didn’t need to sugarcoat things, but, well... he might not have been able to handle hearing it straight right now.

Especially given his condition.

“There’s to be a great feast tonight,” Balin continued, “songs will be sung, tales will be told, more food than even Bombur could eat... ya could stay for that, you know. Tell stories with us about Thorin.”

Bilbo smiled, shaking his head.

“That’s- that’s kind, Balin, but I... I think the stories I have of Thorin, I’ll keep with me. To me, he was...he meant...”

He trailed off, but something in Balin’s eyes told him he understood, more than Bilbo might have thought he did.

“So I think- I think I’ll just slip quietly away, if that’s alright. Will you tell the others I said goodbye?”

“Tell them yourself,” Balin replied, making Bilbo pause and turn around. His heart melted at the sight of his Dwarves- even Fili and Kili, laid up in those roaming chairs they had with Tauriel standing behind Kili- standing in the doorway, and he smiled sadly as he approached them.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Well, ah... if- if any of you are ever passing Bag End, uh... tea is at four. There’s plenty of it.” He swallowed, glancing away from the looks of melancholy on the company’s faces. “You... you are welcome any time.”

They all bowed, save for Fili and Kili, who simply ducked their heads. Bilbo sniffed, wiping his eyes before stepping in front of his almost- oh, who was he kidding, his nephews, Fili and Kili were as dear to him as they were to Thorin. It didn’t matter now if they knew, after all, so he leaned down, pressing kisses to both their foreheads. 

“You two behave now. I expect great things from you both.”

The princes both smiled sadly, and he swallowed before looking up at Tauriel.

“... Thank you,” he managed, hoping she understood just how grateful he really was to her. By the way she smiled, he was certain she did. “And... well, good luck.”

She laughed, and Kili had the gall to look indignant.

He swallowed once more, then smiled at the group as he backed away and turned around.

Then he turned around again.

“Don’t... don’t bother knocking.”

They laughed, though he could see how all their eyes glittered with unshed tears. 

He smiled as he turned away, this time for good as he walked up to Gandalf. The lot cheered and waved as they rode away, and Bilbo sighed, putting a hand on his stomach.

He wondered if they’d take him up on that offer, someday. He hoped they would. 

He'd have to think of what to tell them, of course. He couldn't do it now- not when the loss was so fresh, when the line of Durin was only just now secure. But someday, he'd tell them, and he'd have to ask them to keep it a secret.

But for now...

“Just me and you, now,” he murmured, rubbing his stomach. “Just us two.”

 

* * *

 

It was an early morning in Bag End, in the middle of an oddly mild summer, that Bilbo Baggins found himself lying aching and exhausted in his bed, listening to the sound of a newborn screaming.

He’d never thought he’d love the sound of a crying baby. He blamed the Dwarves.

“It’s a boy,” Bell Gamgee told him as she carried the bundle over. “Healthy, all ten fingers and toes.”

Bilbo let out a tiny, breathy laugh, brushing some of his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

“A- a boy?” He asked as he took the baby, who fussed against his chest for a moment before settling. 

“A boy,” she confirmed with a smile. “Already a good hair of head on him, too.”

Bilbo laughed again, reaching up to brush back the blanket to see his son’s face. The baby made a sleepy sound, one eye- one bright, piercing blue eye- cracking open to look at him.

Bilbo’s heart twinged, his eyes becoming damp as he pressed his forehead to the baby’s.

“Thorin,” he whispered, “oh, dearest, he has your eyes...”

The baby yawned, and Bilbo laughed, kissing his forehead gently. 

“He would have loved you so much.” He smiled.  _ “I  _ love you so much, sweetling.”

His son grunted in response, nuzzling against Bilbo’s chest and letting out a great big sigh, his tiny body shaking with the effort.

“Mr. Bilbo?”

Bilbo looked up, smiling when he saw little May lingering in the doorway.

“Ah! May, what did I tell you, stay with your siblings!”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Bilbo told her as he shifted around on the bed. “Do you want to come meet him, dear?”

She nodded, timidly walking up to the bed and crawling up next to him. She peered over his shoulder, eyes wide with curiosity.

“He’s so...  _ wrinkly,”  _ she commented, making Bilbo laugh. “Is Mama’s new baby gonna be that wrinkly?”

Bilbo laughed as Bell covered her slightly swollen stomach indignantly.

“Probably, most babies are.” He leaned down, kissing the baby’s head to calm him. “I’ll bet your new sibling won’t take as long to get here as this one, though. Might not be as hairy, either.”

“Oh.” May leaned on his shoulder. “So what are you going to call him?”

“Hm... Frodo, I think.” He traced the tip of a pointed ear. “I had a relative called that, when I was little.”

“Oh. Hi, Frodo!”

Frodo grunted in response, and Bilbo laughed, taking his son’s tiny hand and letting it wrap around his finger.

“Hello, Frodo. I’ve been waiting for you, darling.”

 

* * *

 

It was unknown, then, to Bilbo, but at the same time that Frodo Baggins, son of Thorin, was being brought into the world kicking and screaming, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, awoke with a gasp from a long sleep.

In fact, it would be some time before Bilbo Baggins was made aware that his lost love was much less lost than he’d believed. But until then, life went like this: in a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit and his son, and in a lonely mountain, one half a world away, there lived a Dwarven king. Both went about their days, unaware of the truth of the other’s life, until one morning, there was a knock on the Hobbit’s door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I dunno, I somehow got this idea while listening to the soundtrack to the second Mamma Mia movie and it's been stuck in my brain for a few weeks. I have been having fun with it, though, and I'll try to update every other Wednesday.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 1: Let This Road be Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mentions of a trans man having been pregnant, allusions to transphobia.

Bilbo loved his son more than anything in Middle Earth. Frodo was his light, his heart, and his life, and he’d do anything for him- he’d face a  _ thousand  _ more dragons if he had to.

But- and given his previous experiences with Dwarves, he could say this with  _ absolute  _ certainty- despite having such a tiny body, he had some of the  _ stinkiest  _ farts Bilbo had ever smelled in his  _ life.  _

“Ugh!” He wrinkled his nose as Frodo giggled, turning to give him a look. “Really, Frodo, I’m already changing your diaper, do you have to add  _ flatulence  _ to that?”

Apparently, yes, as Frodo responded by screwing up his face and letting out another toot, giggling when Bilbo balked. 

“Oh, you get that from your other father, don’t you?” He muttered as he finished cleaning the boy up, tossing his soiled diaper in the bin to wash before grabbing a fresh one. “I don’t care  _ how  _ regal that Dwarf made himself out to be, the fact was that he blew them all out of the water when it came to- well, breaking wind.”

Frodo giggled, then stuck his fingers in his mouth as Bilbo pulled up his pants again. He reached up for Bilbo once he was dressed, and Bilbo smiled, pulling his son into his arms and kissing the top of his head.

“There, all nice and clean. Why don’t we have a nice bottle and a little nap now, hm?”

Frodo yawned, snuggling into Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo hummed, getting a bottle of milk out of the kitchen before carrying Frodo into his nursery. Frodo latched onto the bottle immediately, his eyelids drooping as he sucked.

“There we go, darling,” Bilbo murmured as he moved back and forth in the rocking chair. He held the bottle in place as his son drained half the bottle, pulling it away and putting it to the side before moving to burp him. Frodo’s burps weren’t quite as bad as his farts, but they were plenty stinky, and Bilbo wrinkled his nose as he pulled his sleepy baby back into his arms. “There, there, now. What story should I tell you today, sweetheart?”

Frodo yawned again, nuzzling Bilbo’s chest.

“Hm... how about a story about how grumpy old Mr. Dwalin learned to knit?”

Frodo grunted in response.

“Yes, that’s a fun one. I was surprised, you know, when he asked me if I knew how. Turns out, he wanted to court dear Mr. Ori- oh, you’d  _ love  _ Ori, sweetling, he’d have so many books to read you...”

Frodo nodded off around the time Bilbo got to the second broken pair of knitting needles, snoring softly. Bilbo smiled, kissing his forehead before putting him in his crib with his bear- it would probably be renamed once Frodo could speak, but for now he’d been referring to it as Beorn, out of affection for and due to its resemblance to the skin-changer. Once Frodo was all tucked in, he crept out of the nursery, closing the door and sighing.

“Right. Laundry now, I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

Frodo had always been a rather peaceful sleeper, so Bilbo had plenty of time to wash and hang the laundry out to dry and tend to the garden, and even work on his book. The acorn had sprouted in a pot last month, and was growing well- he could replant it in the yard soon, and by the time Frodo was grown, it would be well on the way to being a strong tree.

For now, though, in the windowsill it stayed, and Bilbo’s eyes would often wander over to it whenever he was writing at his desk. He’d remember the little acorn, and all the adventures he’d brought it along on, the perils and the joys.

The losses.

Thorin.

Usually, though, Frodo would start crying, and he’d go to him once more, putting aside the painful memories of his lost love and concentrating on the little one, who needed him more than anything.

Usually. Today, however, things were different, because instead of his son’s crying bringing him out of his head, it was a knock at the door.

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow as he put his pen down. Another knock came, more insistent this time, and he briefly considered getting his ring off the mantle before deciding that, at the very least, it wasn’t Lobelia- she would have screamed at him had she been at the door, so whoever it was probably wasn’t the last person he’d like to see.

So instead, he took a deep breath, getting out of his chair and making his way over to the front door. The person on the other side knocked as if they were getting ready to break the door down, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“I’m coming! Just a moment, please, I’m- I’m a bit slower than I used to be-!”

Bilbo blinked when he opened the door, furrowing his brow. In front of him were two Dwarves. He’d never met either of them, but somehow they both looked familiar. The one on the left was female, he was fairly certain, and had light hair, her beard neatly trimmed and her blue eyes piercing. The one on the right was definitely male, with dark hair streaked with silver. They appeared to have a few matching braids- he wasn’t certain, but he thought this signified they were married, if he remembered what Balin had told him correctly. 

“Uh... can I help you?” 

“That depends,” the light-haired Dwarf, who he was certain was a woman now, replied. “Are you Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo blinked again.

“Um. Yes?”

“Splendid,” she said before stepping inside, “you wouldn’t  _ believe  _ how many houses have a green door in this place.”

Bilbo blinked a third time, watching as the male Dwarf followed the other inside with a slight limp, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he found his voice again.

“And, ah, who- who, may I ask, are you two?”

The pair bowed. 

“Princess Dis, at your service. This is my consort, Vili, son of Nali.”

Bilbo stared at them for a moment, trying to place those names. The realization of who they were suddenly hit him, his mouth falling open.

“Oh! Oh, you’re- you’re Fili and Kili’s parents, aren’t you?”

Now that he knew that, actually, the resemblance was obvious. Fili was the spitting image of his mother, with that same strong nose the line of Durin seemed to have, and Kili had clearly inherited his looks from his father, though his father was sporting a much thicker beard. 

Dis smiled, inclining her head a bit.

“I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Master Burglar. My sons seem quite fond of you.”

Bilbo’s cheeks heated, and he ducked his head as he cleared his throat.

“Ah, well, they’re- they’re very sweet boys, honestly.” He hesitated, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. “A bit rambunctious, admittedly, but-!”

Vili burst out laughing, and Dis rolled her eyes.

“Yes, well, my brother did have a tendency to indulge them in their childhood.”

And there it was. Bilbo knew they didn’t mean to hurt him by bringing Thorin up, but... well, it had only been a year and some change since the- the Battle of the Five Armies, as they’d started to call it, and... and it still hurt. 

Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Not- not that it’s not lovely to meet you, it is, but... is there something I can help you with?”

Dis’ face became somber as she took a step towards Bilbo.

“Actually, yes. My husband and I are making our way to Erebor from the Blue Mountains to join our kin. Since the Shire is on the way, I decided to come and ask you something.”

Bilbo swallowed, trying to guess what on earth a Princess would need to ask of him, other than... well, other than questions about Thorin, ones he was certainly not ready to answer.

“Would you mind coming with us?”

Bilbo blinked, staring at her.

“P... Pardon?”

“To Erebor, I mean. I know it’s sudden, but my sons have been sending me some rather concerning letters as of late about my brother, although I’m sure you haven’t heard anything since the stubborn ass declared that no one is to bother you on his behalf, but if he saw you again...”

Bilbo’s eyes went wide as she explained her plan, his heart pounding in his ears.

“S... Sorry, what was...? What was that? About... about Th... Tho... your brother?”

He must have heard her wrong. Must have. There was no way, he was  _ there  _ when he-!

“Thorin has apparently been quite miserable since he awoke, or so my boys tell me.” Dis sighed, shaking her head. “Of course, in his own letters my dear brother has been as taciturn as ever, but I’m sure my sons know him well enough by now.”

Bilbo’s throat tightened, and his knees suddenly felt very weak.

“His... his let... Thorin’s...”

Thorin was alive. 

Thorin was  _ alive.  _ He’d been alive all along, all this time, and Bilbo had  _ left  _ him. He’d  _ abandoned  _ Thorin, he’d abandoned the love of his life, and-

And he’d kept his son from him.

“Master Baggins? Master Baggins, you’re shaking.”

What had he done? Thorin had  _ loved  _ him, more than anything, and he’d left him and taken his  _ child  _ from him, and, oh, Bilbo couldn’t  _ breathe,  _ Thorin was going to  _ hate  _ him, and of course he would, what Bilbo had done to him was  _ awful,  _ what had he  _ done? _

“Master Bag- Vili, I think he’s in shock, help me-!”

Just then, a loud, angry cry rang out through the smial, and Bilbo snapped back to reality, taking a sharp breath.

“Oh... oh, oh, dear, I’m-! I’m dreadfully sorry, just a moment!”

The Dwarves stood still, seemingly shocked as Bilbo scurried back to the nursery. Frodo was awake, kicking around beneath his blanket and smacking poor Beorn around in his tiny fist.

“Oh, sweetling, shh, shh,” he cooed as he took his son out of his crib, holding him close to his chest. “Shh, Frodo, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here...”

Frodo hiccuped, gripping at Bilbo’s shirt and nuzzling against him. 

“It’s alright,” Bilbo told him, rocking him back and forth gently, “it’s alright, my dear boy, I’m here, we’re alright...”

He took a breath, his heartbeat finally slowing in pace as Frodo settled.

“I’m here. I’m alright.”

His son cooed, and Bilbo kissed his forehead, finally feeling calm again.

“So,” he heard Dis say behind him, “my brother has a child.”

Bilbo cringed, instantly holding Frodo tighter to his chest. 

“I, um, he’s-!”

“Master Baggins, I raised two Durin boys. They have a look about them.” Dis put a hand on his shoulder, and when Bilbo chanced a look at her she was smiling. “The eyes are a rather big hint as well.”

Frodo fussed again, and Bilbo shifted him around, allowing him to sit up a bit and get a good look at Dis. His son blinked a few times, then giggled, wiggling in Bilbo’s arms and reaching for his newfound aunt. Dis’ eyes softened, and she looked at Bilbo as she held out her hands.

“May I?”

He wasn’t quite sure why, but something in Bilbo told him that she meant no harm to either of them, and he swallowed before allowing her to take him. She cradled him gently, almost reverently, laughing when he grabbed at her necklace and put it in his mouth.

“Frodo!” Bilbo scolded. “Don’t put that in your mouth, it’s- it’s not yours!”

“It’s alright, Master Baggins,” Dis told him, her voice light and full of warmth, “this necklace has been through worse than the mouth of a curious babe. How old is he?”

“Eight months in about a week.”

Frodo released the necklace, gurgling as he started pawing at the braids in Dis’ beard.

“I never thought I would see the day that my brother became a father,” Dis murmured, brushing a few of Frodo’s curls back. Bilbo cleared his throat, turning his head away.

“Yes, well, um, it... it wasn’t exactly  _ planned...” _

“Mm. So then, I must ask- is this magic, or are you a Reborn one?”

Bilbo blinked, turning back to her with a furrowed brow.

“Pardon?”

“If you are uncomfortable with disclosing that, I will not force you-!”

“No, that’s- I’m just not sure what you mean by, er... Reborn?”

Dis blinked, then quirked an eyebrow.

“Perhaps Hobbits do not have this concept. It is easier to explain in Khuzdul, but in essence it is a term that refers to a person who was designated as one gender at their birth, but is a different gender in actuality.”

BIlbo blinked, then made a sound of realization.

“Oh! Oh, well, um... yes, that’s- that’s what... that’s accurate. An accurate description of- of me, I mean.”

Dis seemed a bit surprised.

“Then you do have this concept? Do you have your own word for it?”

Bilbo flinched, then cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well, ah, I suppose you could say that, but... well, they’re not exactly  _ polite.” _

Dis paused, then frowned, something in her eyes hardening. 

“I see. For Dwarves, it is not common, but common enough to warrant a term. Since Dwarrows tend not to be so different in appearance from Dwarrowdams anyway, it is not seen as anything to be concerned about.” Her grip on Frodo seemed to tighten a little. “Nor would it be ample cause for cruelty.”

Bilbo laughed, more than a little relieved as he brushed some hair behind his ear.

“Yes, well, I- I suppose I might have guessed, given that Thorin...”

He trailed off, swallowing a lump in his throat as he glanced up at Dis, who smiled gently. The question burned at the back of his throat, insistent and needy, and he knew he couldn’t keep himself from asking.

“When... I was told that he was returned to, to the Earth, after the battle.” He swallowed, straightening his shoulders. “I assumed that it meant that he was... what does it mean, if not...?”

Dis sighed, adjusting Frodo so that she could allow him to grab onto her finger.

“My brother was very near death’s door after the battle. It was uncertain if he would live, and in a last attempt to save him, he was taken deep underground, to the halls of our forefathers. There, he was laid to rest for a time, in the hopes that he would heal.” She smiled gently. “And eight months ago, he awoke, fully returned to health.”

Bilbo’s throat went dry.

“Eight... Eight months?”

She hummed, adjusting Frodo again.

“Well, in about a week it will be.”

The air seemed to rush out of Bilbo’s lungs all at once, and he could only manage a shaky inhale.

“Oh,  _ Thorin,”  _ he whispered. “Oh, dearest, what have I done to you?”

“Bilbo,” Dis interrupted gently, “Bilbo, you did not know.”

Bilbo’s laugh was more than a bit hysterical.

“I- I just, I  _ assumed,  _ I didn’t... I didn’t even  _ think  _ that it might not mean what I... oh, Yavanna, he’s going to  _ hate  _ me for this, isn’t he?”

At that, Dis snorted, shaking her head.

“I doubt he ever could. If my sons have been even a little truthful in their letters, then he has been miserable since awakening.” She took a step towards Bilbo. “And that is why I ask that you return with us to Erebor, if only temporarily. It would do him good to see you, if nothing else.”

Bilbo swallowed, looking down at his feet.

“I... I’m not sure that he’d be... be as happy to see me again as you think, but... if nothing else, I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least allow him to meet his-!”

There was a sudden crash from the front of the house, followed by a chorus of groans, and they both paused. Dis’ eyes narrowed, and she held out Frodo for Bilbo to take back. He did, then watched as she walked out of the nursery, following her out after a moment and finding a familiar sight.

That being a veritable pile of Dwarves in his doorway. Dis stood in front of them, hands on her hips as she looked at them as if she were a stern schoolteacher and they were a group of rowdy students.

“Vili,” she started, “what did I ask you to do?”

Another groan sounded from the bottom of the pile.

“Keep an eye out to make sure our companions don’t rush in here.”

“And what am I seeing in front of me?”

“In my defense, there’s a lot of them, and most are bigger than me.”

Dis sighed, though it was a fond sound, then clapped her hands.

“Alright, all of you, up now. Fili, really, I left you in charge for a reason...”

“Sorry, Amad,” Bilbo heard Fili mutter as the pile dispersed, and his heart leapt when he realized that these weren’t just  _ any  _ Dwarves, but  _ his  _ Dwarves. 

“You’re... you’re a bit early for tea, I’m afraid,” he commented as they all finally stood, unable to help his smile, “although I think I’ve got enough for elevenses, if you’d like.”

“Bilbo!” Bofur cried, and a gaggle of Dwarves all took a step towards him before stopping, clearly only just noticing the pair of big, piercingly blue eyes staring at them curiously. Frodo made a curious sound, then promptly stuck four of his fingers in his mouth and started babbling around them.

Bilbo held his breath.

“... Laddie,” Dwalin started, “is... is that a baby?”

“It is.”

“Yours?” Dori added.

“Very much so.”

They all glanced at each other, seeming nervous.

“Then... where’s his mother?” Fili asked.

Bilbo swallowed, pressing a kiss into Frodo’s curls.

“He doesn’t have one.”

Now there were murmurs. He heard Dis sigh and mutter something like “Mahal save me from  these dear, oblivious fools...”

“But if he doesn’t have a mother, where did he come from?” Ori asked.

He clenched his jaw, holding his son a little tighter.

“That... that would be me.”

Silence fell over his smial, and when Bilbo peeked at them, they all had dumbfounded looks on their faces.

“... but... aren’t you a male Hobbit?” Fili asked.

Bilbo sighed, brushing some hair behind his ear. 

“I am, yes, but- Princess Dis? What was that, that term you used?”

Dis smiled, nodding before turning to the group and saying something in Khuzdul. A look of understanding passed over their faces, with a few even going “ohhh” for good measure.

“That... actually explains quite a lot,” Ori murmured. “Still, then, who is his... erm, well, other parent, I suppose?”

Bilbo flushed. Dis rolled her eyes. Vili snickered. 

“What?” Fili asked. “What’s so funny, Adad?”

“Really, Fili,” Dis started with a sigh and a shake of her head, “you and your brother were the ones who wrote me all those letters about how your uncle was miserable without the Hobbit, what do  _ you  _ think?”

Fili blinked, furrowing his brow for a moment before a look of disbelief dawned on him.

“Uncle has a child?!”

Bilbo flushed even more as a chorus of shocked cries sounded from the Dwarves, Frodo chiming in with a few babbles of his own.

“Y... Yes, well, um... I suppose there’s no use in denying it, then.” He shifted Frodo around in his arms as he walked up to Fili. “Frodo, this is your cousin, Fili. Can you say hi to Fili?”

Frodo blinked, then giggled, waving before wiggling and reaching out for Fili to hold him. Fili’s eyes widened, then softened as he looked at Bilbo.

“Can... can I?”

Bilbo smiled, holding his son out for Fili to take.

“Support his backside,” he instructed as Fili took him into his arms. Frodo cooed, pawing at the braids in Fili’s beard before tugging on one of them.

“Ow!”

“Frodo!” Bilbo scolded.

Frodo giggled, and Dis and Vili both laughed at the expression on Fili’s face.

“S’not funny, that  _ hurt!”  _

Dis snickered, her eyes glittering with mirth.

“Yes, I’m sure it does, since  _ you  _ used to do that to everyone when you were his age.”

Fili had the gall to look indignant at that, and Frodo giggled again before pausing as his stomach growled.

“Oh, are you hungry, sweetling?” Bilbo asked as he took Frodo from Fili, bouncing him gently. “Well, it’s time for elevenses, after all.”

 

* * *

 

The meal itself was a quiet affair. Everyone was near silent as Bilbo fed Frodo some mashed-up sweet potatoes, and while a good chunk of it ended up on the boy’s face or clothing, enough got into his mouth that he got a good meal out of it.

“So, then,” Dwalin started once Bilbo started cleaning Frodo up, “how old’s the lad?”

“Eight months in a week,” Bilbo answered as he scrubbed his son’s cheeks. “Don’t squirm, Frodo.”

Frodo whined, trying his very best to flatten himself to the back of his high chair. Bilbo was undeterred by this, simply leaning forward to finish wiping his mouth off. He heard a murmur from the Dwarves, noting the concern in their voices.

“And, ah, how long do Hobbit pregnancies usually last?”

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he knew they were trying not to think of... well, the truth.

“Around seven months, but as Frodo is not just a Hobbit, it took a bit longer. I was pregnant with him for... hm, about nine months, I think?”

Silence fell over the group for a moment, only interrupted by someone slamming their hands on the table, making him flinch and Frodo yell in a chastising tone.

“Bilbo!” Bofur cried. “Bilbo, don’t tell me you were-!”

“Well, I didn’t know either at the time!” Bilbo replied sharply. 

“You- you really had no idea?” Dori asked.

“Not even an inkling?” Nori added, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer. Bilbo flushed, clearing his throat.

“I, well, perhaps... I  _ had  _ been getting ill for a bit beforehand, but I thought... well, there  _ were  _ quite a lot of dragon droppings all around the place, I thought I was just getting ill because of the stench!”

Fili groaned, dropping his head to the table.

“Uncle’s gonna kill us,” he stated glumly, with several of the others voicing their agreement. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he turned to them, arms folded across his chest.

“Now, hold on a moment, don’t act like any of you had a say in my decision to participate! I’m the one who chose to face the dragon, to fight in the battle, all of it! If- If Thorin’s going to be upset with anyone, then it’s damned well going to be me!” 

Frodo cheered, smacking his tiny palm against the tray before giggling again. Dis laughed as well, shaking her head.

“Once again, Bilbo, I doubt that my brother will be upset with you about anything.” She leaned forward. “So then, you are coming with us?”

Bilbo swallowed, gripping at the small of his arm before sighing and nodding.

“Yes. I- yes, I’ll accompany you back to Erebor.” He cleared his throat as he placed a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “With- with Frodo.”

His Dwarves cheered, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright, settle down, now! I’ve got a few questions of my own, actually.” He took a breath as they sat down. “So. I’m... from your reaction, I’m guessing that, ah, you... you all knew?”

The expressions on the Dwarrows’ faces morphed into one of confusion, a few of them sharing strange looks.

“Er... well, yes, we did,” Dori confirmed.

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Ori asked. Bilbo spluttered, his face reddening a bit.

“Was it supposed to-! Yes! Yes, of course it was supposed to be a secret, how did you know?!”

“Because Uncle wasn’t even close to subtle about how he felt about you?” Fili suggested. “I mean, we all saw how he looked at you, Bilbo. And don’t even get me started on the mithril.”

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow.

“Wait, what? What does the mithril-?”

Just then, there was a crash just outside his window, cutting off Bilbo’s question. The Dwarves rose, but Bilbo told them to stand down, walking over to his window and opening it. He smirked when he saw the cause of the commotion, leaning out slightly.

“Hamson, Halfred, Daisy.”

“Hi, Mr. Baggins,” the three chorused sheepishly.

“Does your mother know that you three are out here eavesdropping?”

“We didn’t drop any eaves, sir, honest!”

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, Hamson, I mean that you were listening in on a private conversation.”

“It was Ham’s idea!” Daisy and Halfred shouted.

“Hey!” 

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head.

“Now, now, I’m not mad, though you shouldn’t do that again, alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Baggins!”

“Good, good. Ah, Hamson? Is your father home? I need to ask him a favor...”

 

* * *

 

“There we go, Mister Baggins, sir, all set!”

Bilbo sighed as Hamfast finished setting up the sign on the door, smiling gently.

“Thank you so much for this, Hamfast. I really do appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course, sir, it’s no trouble!” Hamfast puffed out his chest a little. “And believe me, sir, if that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins tries to steal your silver again, I’ll be sure to give her what for!”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head a little.

“I’m sure you will, Hamfast. Oh, how’s Bell doing?”

“Ah, she’s doing just dandy, sir!” Hamfast grinned. “And little Sam’s growing like a weed. Bet you anything he’ll be running around with young Mister Frodo before you know it!”

Frodo giggled and clapped, clearly on board with the idea, and Bilbo chuckled.

“Well, if he’s anything like his cousins, I’m sure he’ll be a little hellion.”

Hamfast chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, if he’s related to any of those Dwarves that showed up at your door a while back, I’m sure he will be!”

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the memory of the dwarves ransacking his pantry, though he was unable to keep from smiling.

“Still, Mr. Baggins, I think this’ll be good for you, really.”

Bilbo blinked, arching an eyebrow as he shifted Frodo around in his arms.

“You do?”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me saying, sir, but... you’ve been a little downtrodden after you got back from your journey.”

Bilbo frowned.

“Downtrodden?”

“Well, you know, just... honestly, Mr. Baggins? You’ve seemed a little lonely.”

Bilbo blinked, his lips parting to refute that before he realized that... well, that Hamfast was right. Sure, he’d had Frodo, whom he loved above all else, but other than that...

“I... perhaps, yes.” Bilbo heard Bell call out her husband’s name, smiling wanly. “Well, I won’t keep you. Thank you again, Hamfast.”

Hamfast nodded, bidding him a good afternoon and a safe journey before strolling down the steps and off to his own home. Bilbo sighed as he closed the door, pursing his lips.

“Oh, what am I doing, Frodo?” He asked as he walked back toward his bedroom. “Am I really just going to pack us up and- and run halfway across the world to see a Dwarf I thought died more than a year ago?”

Frodo cooed as Bilbo set him down next to the dresser, tilting his head as he watched Bilbo open a drawer.

“Don’t get me wrong, I do love him- of  _ course  _ I do, I don’t know that I could ever stop loving him, but... what if Dis is wrong?” He hesitated as he pulled some clothes out of the dresser, folding them and plodding over to his bed, dragging the old bag from underneath and dropping the clothes on top of it. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if he... if he can’t forgive me for what I did?”

Frodo babbled behind him, and he sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his curls.

“You know, people are starting to call me ‘Mad Baggins.’ I’m sure that Lobelia’s got something to do with that, but maybe... if I go, if I take you and go running off to a mountain halfway round the world, then maybe I really  _ would  _ be mad. He might not even want to see me, and- and he might not want to know you-!”

There was a sudden  _ thud,  _ followed by a giggle from Frodo. Bilbo paused, arching an eyebrow as he turned around.

“Frodo? What’s so... funny...?”

His heart suddenly leapt into his throat when he saw his son, who had gotten the bottom dresser drawer open and pulled out a thin, silvery shirt. He was now trying to get the shirt on, eventually popping his head out and grabbing the collar.

“Da!” Frodo declared with a giggle, rocking back and forth excitedly. Bilbo swallowed hard, vision swimming with tears as he padded over to Frodo. 

“Yes, sweetling, that... that was something your father- your Adad gave me, before...” Bilbo swallowed again as he picked Frodo up, chuckling at how the collar sagged down over his shoulder. 

He hadn’t seen that shirt since he returned to the Shire. He’d worn it as long as he could on the trip home, but he’d been too big to fit in it by the time they reached Rivendell, and it had been stashed in his pack by the time he arrived home. 

The first thing he’d done once he’d gotten his relatives out was shove it in the bottom of his dresser, beneath a sweater of his father’s that had been half-eaten by moths. He just couldn’t look at it anymore, not without remembering the battle, Thorin’s final words to him, the sickness, how... how even though Thorin had lost so much of himself to gold, he still gave something sacred to Bilbo, looked at him like he was something precious and beloved.

He’d loved Bilbo, even when he had nearly lost himself.

Frodo patted his shoulder, looking concerned. Bilbo gave him a teary smile, then leaned in and pressed a kiss into his curls. 

“Oh, Frodo... I know that he at least deserves to meet you.” He took a breath. “Even... even if he can’t love me again.”

Frodo cooed, putting his hands on Bilbo’s cheeks and squishing them together. Bilbo laughed, shaking his head and turning back to the pack. 

“Alright, darling, let’s get all packed, hm? We’ve got a long journey ahead, don’t we?”

Frodo giggled and clapped in response. Bilbo sighed, placing him on the bed as he got back to work.

A small part of his mind reminded him that this was mad, that running off to see Thorin once more would probably only end in heartbreak at best.

But... but, well, there were still so many questions. So many things his heart still needed to know, to be sure of, and sitting around moping wasn’t going to get him any answers.

His mind was made up. Tomorrow, he and Frodo would join his Dwarves in their return to Erebor, back to his past.

And, if he was lucky, back to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I said every other Wednesday, but I'm uploading this today for two reasons- I've kinda been blown away by the response to this (seriously, over a hundred kudos and a thousand hits in just a week! I don't think I've ever gotten that kind of response!), and I realized that if I uploaded a week from today, I'd have to update both of my ongoing fics in the same week, which would probably end up causing delays in one or both. So this is both a reward for the amazing response to this, and also because I want to alternate update weeks with my other fic.
> 
> Anyway, a few notes: I decided that Dwarves were probably the least likely race to have a strict concept of gender, since p much everyone's got a beard anyway. Hobbits and Dwarves have similar views on sexuality, although Hobbits have a greater emphasis on marriage, but older Hobbits (the generation before Bilbo's, at least) aren't quite as open-minded about gender.
> 
> Also, Frodo's birthday in this fic is July 22nd, which is about nine months and four days from October 18th, which is one day before Durin's Day as noted by Tolkien in the History of the Hobbit, where he lists it as October 19th. The current date as of this chapter is March 14th, which is around a week from March 22th, when Frodo will be eight months old.
> 
> Did I need to figure this out? Probably not. Did I spend a whole fuckload of time trying to make sure dates lined up? Yes I did, and if Tolkien can spend three pages describing fucking trees then my dedication to accuracy in dates is not going overboard, or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
> 
> Finally, in other "things I probably didn't need to research but did anyway" related news, the milk Frodo gets is breastmilk, because while I didn't think Bilbo would be totally comfortable breastfeeding directly, I also learned that goat milk and cow milk are bad for babies, and I couldn't figure out how to realistically implement infant formula into this setting. I briefly considered saying that Bilbo got it from an oddly large store in Bree run by a bipedal creature in a robe that, quite frankly, resembles an orange cat, but while that made me laugh, I decided that implying that Garfield the Deals Warlock relocated to Middle Earth and opened a new Fantasy Costco after the end of Balance was a little too silly, even for me.
> 
> And if you don't know what I'm talking about, short, spoiler-free answer: the Adventure Zone is a Tabletop RPG podcast run by three brothers and their dad that is comical in its basis, but has some damn good storytelling and has made me cry many times.
> 
> If you got my TAZ reference, then rest assured, there will be more, because I am incapable of writing a fic without referencing TAZ nowadays lmao
> 
> Anyway, that's it for this chapter! Again, thank you so much for the great response to this fic! I was actually a little nervous about posting it, but I'm really glad I did. Next update is on the 29th, and comments are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 2: Ever Chasing Fireflies

Bilbo learned quite a bit about what his Dwarves had been up to in the past year in the first few weeks of the journey. 

Dwalin and Ori, for example, had kept up their courtship, though perhaps to Dori’s annoyance it remained  _ only _ a courtship (“I’m just saying that it’s been over a year, it’s a perfectly respectable time to ask for marriage!”).

(Bilbo kindly refrained from reminding him that he’d rather subtly threatened to cut off an important part of Dwalin’s anatomy when he first found out. Nori, on the other hand, seemed to take a bit of glee in reminding him about that.)

As Bilbo had expected, Ori rather quickly became Frodo’s favorite Dwarf, much to Fili’s dismay. Whenever they were stopped for the night and Frodo was allowed to crawl around, he would almost always go to Ori, giggling and tugging on his clothes until Ori started telling him a story. Meanwhile, Dwalin would look smitten in the background, his hand going to his pocket.

It didn’t take Bilbo long to figure out what was in that pocket, and he took a bit of amusement in teasing a red-faced Dwalin about when he was going to ask Ori to marry him.

After Ori, Frodo’s favorite was definitely Bofur, though that might have been due to the fact that Bofur had carved him a fair few toys. Bofur seemed much the same as he always had, although Bilbo was almost certain that he and Nori had been making eyes at each other. He’d learned from Bofur that Bifur had stayed with their toy workshop, both because someone needed to and because Bifur was more than a little smitten with a cook named Sorin. Bombur and his children were all apparently taking no small amount of pleasure in teasing him about it, but Bifur didn’t seem to care all that much.

Oin and Gloin had settled into life in the Lonely Mountain quite quickly, the latter especially once his wife and children had joined him. Gloin had started training Gimli in his trade, although apparently Gimli had little interested in banking, not to mention was still a little sore over the fact that he wasn’t allowed to come along on the quest for Erebor. 

From Fili’s description, Bilbo was rather glad he hadn’t been around to witness any of the explosive arguments between Gloin and Gimli. He pitied whoever had to clean up all the broken pottery.

Kili was apparently quite happy in the mountain, though Bilbo was certain that had something to do with the presence of a certain Woodland Elf. According to Fili, Thorin had rewarded Tauriel’s help by granting her citizenship after Thranduil banished her from Mirkwood. The new council had put up a bit of a fuss about it, but apparently Thorin had cited something known as the “Law of Ones” to shut them up.

“The... Law of Ones?” Bilbo asked one night when they were camped out just beyond the Trollshaws.

“Aye, that’s it,” Dis confirmed. “It’s an old one, I’m almost surprised he remembered it. He was never all that interested in learning the ins and outs of the law. Anyway, the law basically says that you can’t separate a Dwarrow from their One, except in cases of abuse or unfaithfulness. As Tauriel is Kili’s One, there’s nothing the council can do without violating an ancient code.”

“Kind of wish I’d gotten to see the look on their faces,” Vili commented, “specially since I know they would have pitched a fit over Dis choosing me.”

Bilbo snorted, shaking his head. He’d heard Dis and Vili’s story early on in the journey- Vili was a baker by trade, born and raised in the Blue Mountains. Dis had originally gone in because Thorin and Dis’ paternal grandmother, Froia, had a bit of a sweet tooth, one that Dis claimed Thorin had inherited to Bilbo’s surprise. According to Vili, what had followed was around three months of Dis coming in and buying slices of cake, occassionally speaking to Vili or his mother, until one day while Vili was out she came in, walked right up to Vili’s mother, and asked her for her permission to formally court Vili.

“My poor mother fainted then and there, right in the middle of the bakery,” Vili finished with a laugh, chuckling even more when he caught sight of a red-faced Dis. “Oh, come on, I told you, I thought it was endearing! Really, I was more surprised that you were interested in me of all people!”

Dis crossed her arms and huffed, shooting Fili a look when he laughed. Bilbo chuckled as he fed Frodo, shaking his head.

“I can relate, actually. I had no idea Thorin had feelings for me either until after I saved him from Azog.” He smiled. “Kind of thought he hated me. Turns out he just had a crush on me from the start and didn’t know what to do about it.”

Dis’ face immediately lit up as if Bilbo had presented her with a unicorn, her lips quirking into the grin of a woman who planned to hold something over her brother for the rest of time. 

“Ha! I knew it,” Fili declared triumphantly. “Kili owes me coin!”

Bilbo blinked as he pulled the bottle away from Frodo’s lips, frowning as he moved Frodo to burp him.

“Fili,” he started slowly, patting Frodo’s back gently, “were you and your brother betting on my relationship with your uncle?”

“What? No, of course not!”

Bilbo sighed in relief.

“We were betting on when it was that Uncle fell for you. I bet it was right from the moment he saw you, and Kili bet it had to do with that thing with the fireflies in Rivendell.”

Bilbo blinked again, then promptly turned scarlet just as Frodo burped next to his ear.

“I- you- what-! How, how did you even know about that?!”

Fili shrugged.

“Nori followed you around.”

Bilbo squawked, turning to give Nori a look. Nori shrugged, looking entirely unrepentant.

“Apologies, laddie, but we barely knew ya back then. For all we knew, you’d try to kill him first chance you had to get him alone.” Nori smirked. “Never seen a Dwarrow look so smitten in all my life.”

Bilbo’s ears burned, and Frodo giggled, which led to a chorus of chuckles from the Dwarves. Bilbo rolled his eyes, moving Frodo around so that he could look his son in the eye.

“Oh, you think that’s funny? Well, if your Adad hadn’t been so smitten, you wouldn’t be here, now would you?”

Frodo blew a raspberry, then suddenly sneezed right on Bilbo. He gagged, holding him out and blinking before putting his son on his lap and wiping at his face. 

“Eugh... wonderful, thank you, Frodo-!”

Frodo let out a whine, then coughed weakly. Bilbo frowned, turning Frodo around and kissing his forehead lightly. His frown deepened as he pulled away, realizing how warm Frodo was.

“Oh, dear. I hope you’re not getting sick...”

 

* * *

 

Perhaps inevitably, Frodo did end up getting sick.

Perhaps just as inevitably, so did the Dwarves. 

Surprisingly, though, Bilbo didn’t get sick. It could have been that it was some sort of Dwarven cold, or perhaps he’d just built up an immunity, but he remained healthy even as his Dwarves and son sniffled, sneezed, and coughed.

Still, that meant that Bilbo was the only one well enough to take care of them, and as Frodo’s fever worsened, he knew that he couldn’t care for them all on his own. 

So, he did the one thing that he could, given their situation and position.

He dragged them all to Rivendell.

The Dwarves were not happy about this. Frodo was also not happy, but his unhappiness had less to do with Elves and more to do with the fact that he had an upset tummy and stuffy nose. 

Still, he was but one Hobbit, and so help him if he had to try and nurse all of them back to health on the road, someone would end up dead, and he couldn’t be certain it would be from illness.

“Ah, Bilbo!” Elrond greeted as he descended the steps flanked by two dark-haired male Elves he didn’t quite recognize. “It is good to see you,  _ mellon nin. _ And the young prince, of course.”

Bilbo bowed just as Frodo sneezed on him again, grimacing when he stood up.

“Yes, well, he’s sort of the reason we’re here,” Bilbo explained before gesturing behind him, “him and the rest of the Dwarves. I’m afraid Frodo’s come down with a bit of a bug, and he’s managed to... spread it to the rest of...”

Bilbo trailed off, distracted by the two Elves behind Elrond who had started making faces at Frodo. His son giggled, waving at them and making a few faces of his own, and Elrond frowned, turning around to look at the other two Elves. They immediately froze, one still with his fingers hooked into the sides of his mouth and the other pushing his nose up. 

“... Elladan. Elrohir. You were going to patrol for Orcs today, were you not?”

Both Elves quickly straightened, their expressions turning solemn as they bowed respectfully and scurried off. Elrond sighed, shaking his head.

“I apologize,  _ mellon nin. _ It has been some time since my sons have seen a babe.”

“Oh, that’s quite-!” Bilbo paused, blinking. “You- Sons? You have children?”

Elrond’s lips turned up in a small smile, his eyes sparkling with pride.

“Aye, three. My youngest, my daughter Arwen, is also here, though I’m not sure where she’s gone off to today.” His smile turned a bit exasperated. “Though I’m certain she’ll appear as well once she hears about Prince Frodo.”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head.

“In any case, we would be glad to take you all in while you recover.” Elrond bowed, then turned as he started up the steps. There was some grumbling behind him, followed by a smack and a groan, and when he turned around he saw that Fili and Nori were rubbing the backs of their heads and grumbling as they walked past him, Dis behind them with a stern expression on her face.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. 

Honestly.  _ Dwarves. _

 

* * *

 

Frodo wasn’t quite sure he liked travelling.

He liked the Dwarves a lot, of course. Da told him that Fee was something called a “cousin,” and Dis and Vee were his “aunt” and “uncle,” even though a whole bunch of the Dwarves called themselves his uncle so he wasn’t sure what that word really meant.

Dwarves were weird. Different from him and Da. But he liked them anyway. 

What he didn’t like, though, was feeling all yucky. His head was stuffy and his nose was runny and his tummy hurt, and he couldn’t nap as easily because they were always moving, always going over a bump in the road or something and it was  _ no fun. _

That’s why he liked the place they were now. Da had called it Rivendell and told him it was “the last homely house.” It didn’t look like any house Frodo had ever seen, but that wasn’t a lot of houses, and besides, Da knew everything, so he must be right. 

Rivendell was kind of like home, but bigger- bigger buildings, bigger furniture,  _ way  _ bigger people. Mr. Elrond and the two funny Elves had been so  _ big,  _ tall as trees! It was all so amazing to Frodo, who knew only about the things he’d seen, which wasn’t a lot, and the things his Da had told him about, which he hadn’t always paid attention to.

Still, Rivendell was calm and quiet, and Frodo was starting to feel a lot better already. In fact, he was sure he felt well enough to go play again, with Fee and Ori and Bofur and everyone.

But there was a problem- Da told him that all the Dwarves weren’t feeling good either, and he said that Frodo couldn’t play with them until they were better. 

And waiting for them to get better was no fun at all. Frodo was starting to get bored, and he didn’t like being bored, not one bit. He hoped those funny Elves would come back, or maybe someone little like him to play with. He loved Da a lot, but Da wasn’t very good at playing- he was better at telling stories and snuggling. Frodo liked those things, but he wanted to play, and he didn’t have anybody to play with besides Da!

Or at least, he didn’t until he woke up in his crib looking up at a pretty Elf lady. 

Frodo blinked, kicking his blanket off and tilting his head. The lady smiled, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. She didn’t look old- she didn’t have wrinkles like the ladies at the market that cooed at him and pinched his cheeks, at least- but there was something funny about her eyes, bright and clear as they were, that made Frodo think she must know lots of things, maybe even more things than his Da did.

“Hello, Frodo,” she murmured, reaching in and touching his cheek gently. 

“Ba,” Frodo replied, waving at her. He didn’t know how she knew his name- again, she probably knew lots of things, so it made sense that she already knew his name. Anyway, she laughed, kneeling down as he sat up.

“You’re so small,” she wondered, “so fragile and innocent.”

Frodo tilted his head to the side as he grabbed Mr. Beorn, pulling him into his lap. He started rocking back and forth and staring at her.

“And yet...” The lady smiled again. “Oh, young Frodo, you are meant for great things, aren’t you?”

Frodo didn’t know the answer to that, but he was pretty sure that it was like when Da asked him questions about what they should have for supper or how best to get mean old Ms. Lobelia to go away. She didn’t want him to answer, but talking helped her make sense of things. 

Which was good, because Frodo didn’t have any answers for her. What he did know was this: he was quite hungry, and yelling usually got Da to come and give him food. His tummy rumbled, and he whimpered, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, you’re hungry, are you?” The lady whispered, her smile still kind and warm as she stood up. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your father will be in at any moment to feed you.”

Frodo blinked, but before he could open his mouth to cry again, he heard familiar footsteps.

“Frodo? Frodo, sweetling, are you awa-? Oh!”

Frodo gurgled, grabbing the bars of his crib and pulling himself to his feet. He reached out for his Da, who walked over to his crib and picked him up, still staring at the lady.

“Um... and you are...?”

The lady bowed.

“I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond. It is an honor to meet you, Master Baggins. I apologize for not asking first, but I only just had the time to come meet the little prince.”

Frodo whined, and Da shushed him, moving him around before putting a bottle to his lips. Frodo wrapped his hands around the bottle, his eyes drooping as Da rocked him a little.

“Oh, oh, the- the honor is mine, Lady Arwen, really!” Da insisted, seeming a bit nervous. Frodo didn’t really understand why he was nervous- Miss Arwen seemed to be really nice, after all, and he was sure she wouldn’t step on him. 

Miss Arwen just smiled again, shaking her head.

“I should think it would not be wise to risk offending the Consort and Prince Under the Mountain.”

Da’s heartbeat did something funny then, and Frodo heard him swallow.

“I-I, I was, I’m... I’m not the consort, actually. Thorin and I never officially... and, and I’m not sure that Frodo’s technically an official prince, either.” Da swallowed again. “Considering that Thorin doesn’t know that Frodo exists.”

Frodo wasn’t sure what a ‘Thorin’ was, other than something that made Da very, very sad. Da shouldn’t ever have to be sad, so Frodo didn’t think he liked whatever a ‘Thorin’ was.

“You are afraid he’ll be upset with you.”

Da snorted.

“Afraid? No, no, I’m  _ certain  _ he’ll be upset. I mean, leaving without even saying goodbye is one thing, leaving without even letting him know he was going to be a father is-!” Da sighed, moving Frodo around in his arms. “I’d honestly be quite surprised if he even wanted to speak to me long enough for me to tell him about Frodo.”

“You didn’t know he was still alive.”

Da paused, turning back to Miss Arwen.

“Did... did Dis tell you?”

Miss Arwen smiled, shaking her head.

“No. No one did.”

“Then... then how...” Da huffed, shaking his head. “No, don’t tell me, I’m sure it’s magic-related. No, I didn’t know that he was still alive when I left the mountain, and no, no one, including Thorin, told me otherwise, but I’m perfectly capable of writing a letter, and I... well, I didn’t.”

Frodo sighed as Da took the bottle from him, grunting when he moved him around and started patting his back. He burped, and Da made a funny noise before moving him around again.

“Master Baggins, I think that you might be underestimating Thorin Oakenshield just a bit.” Miss Arwen’s smile widened a little. “I am certain he will be very happy to see you, and to know that he has a son.”

Da paused, eyebrow arching a little.

“You know, I can’t help but notice that you’ve got a look on your face that rather reminds me of when your father told me I was having a boy.”

Miss Arwen laughed a little, shaking her head and bowing.

“You are very insightful, Master Baggins. I’m afraid, though, that I must leave you now. I only had enough time to come see the little prince, though it was lovely to speak with you.”

“O-Oh, yes, of course!” Da bowed a little. “Say goodbye to Lady Arwen, Frodo.”

Frodo giggled, waving at Miss Arwen.

“Bye-bye!”

Miss Arwen smiled, bowing before turning around and leaving. Da sighed, shaking his head.

“Elves can be a bit strange, can’t they, my dear?”

Frodo, having only met a few Elves in his very short life, did not know, and attempted to tell Da as much. Da laughed, shaking his head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you very much, Frodo.”

Frodo told him that he loved him back, which made Da laugh again.

“Sweet boy... well, it’s just you and me again today. I’m afraid our Dwarves are still under the weather.”

Frodo pouted, and Da shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t just make them healthy again. I’m simply a Hobbit, not a wizard.”

Frodo pouted some more, then sighed when he got bored of that, instead tugging on the buttons on Da’s shirt.

“None of that, now,” Da chastised, pulling Frodo’s fingers away from the buttons and giving him a finger to wrap his own around. “Hm... how about we go on a walk around Rivendell? I can show you the place where I first started to fall in love with your adad.”

Frodo cooed, and Da laughed again.

 

* * *

 

Since it was morning, there was a distinct lack of fireflies on the steps of Rivendell.

Bilbo found he didn’t mind that much- while he had been very fond of the bugs the first time he and Thorin had been in Rivendell, the second...

Well. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. Not when Frodo was shifting around in his arms and trying to escape.

“No, no, sweetling, you can’t go crawling here, it’s- it’s too dangerous. This place is made for big people, not little Hobbits.”

Frodo whined, then immediately forgot what he was upset about, his attention captured by the vines climbing up some of the columns and the small purple blossoms that dotted them.

Bilbo sighed, taking a step towards the flowers to allow Frodo to get a better look at them. 

Those blossoms had been there the first time, too. 

He hadn’t meant to run into Thorin that night, not really. He’d just been exploring this wonderous, beautiful place, and Thorin had happened to be watching the fireflies, which he’d rather gruffly explained away as being unusual to him because he was born in darkness, where there were no such things.

Although, in retrospect, he may have just been embarrassed about being caught.

Of course, then the fireflies left the roof, floating down towards them and lighting up the space between them. It had almost felt like magic to Bilbo, who had never seen the bugs up close like this in all his years, and for a moment, he had thought it was simply a function of Rivendell’s ethereal beauty.

And then Thorin had started swatting at them. Apparently, they’d gotten too close and one had gotten in his mouth, but seeing Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, flailing, sputtering, and cursing at tiny bugs like they had insulted his mother was...

Well, Bilbo couldn’t have helped it if he wanted to- he laughed. He laughed so hard his stomach ached, harder than he had since this accursed quest had started, or really, harder than he had since his mother passed away. He laughed until tears were streaming down his face, until he had to grab onto the railway just to keep himself from collapsing onto the ground.

In all his life, he’d never seen anything as silly as Thorin yelling at lightning bugs. It was certainly the least kingly he’d seen Thorin at that point, and knowing that the Dwarrow was, at the very least, not always so stern and stoic, well...

It was one of the reasons that Bilbo started to fall for him in earnest.

Thorin had been staring at him when he finally pulled himself together, his face red and his eyes wide. At the time, he’d thought he was mad at him, and so was a little relieved when Gandalf and Elrond walked by talking about the quest, though that relief drained away when he saw the look on Thorin’s face.

Now, though, he was certain that Thorin’s red face and wide eyes weren’t a sign of anger, but... well, a sign that Thorin had been falling for him as well.

“... your adad was a little funny like that, Frodo,” he murmured as he finished his story, glancing at the walkway Gandalf and Elrond had been on. Frodo giggled, then sneezed, a bit of pollen flying away from the spot. “Oops. Sorry, darling.”

Frodo babbled, and Bilbo heard a chuckle behind them.

“Thorin always was a bit of an oddball, I think.”

Bilbo yelped, holding Frodo close to his chest as he turned around. Vili held up his hands in surrender, though he put one down quickly to grab onto his crutch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Only me.”

Frodo giggled, and Bilbo furrowed his brow as he shifted his child around, his eyes darting between the crutch and the way that Vili’s left leg was bent seemingly to hide his calf.

“Are- are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

Vili blinked, seeming confused for a moment before his eyebrows rose. He smiled, shaking his head.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Master Baggins, I- I forgot.” He shifted, letting his leg fall to reveal that his pant leg was tied off just below the knee. “You’ve never seen me without my leg, have you?”

Bilbo was ashamed to say that he stared for far longer than was appropriate, gaping at the empty space where Vili’s leg should have been until Frodo started squirming. He swallowed, clearing his throat and glancing between the floor and Vili’s face.

“I... I didn’t... um. How... how, if you don’t mind my asking, did...”

Vili’s expression turned solemn, his eyes hardening.

“Chewed off by a Warg.”

Bilbo inhaled sharply, his stomach turning and his throat going dry. 

“I... I’m so sorry-!” Bilbo paused when he saw the mirth in Vili’s eyes, his lips twitching upward. “Wait a... did that actually happen?”

Vili grinned, snickering as he shook his head.

“No, sorry, you just looked so serious and I couldn’t help myself. It’s nothing as tragic as that, I was just born without it.”

Bilbo suddenly understood  _ exactly  _ where Fili and Kili got it from. He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“I see... so is that why you didn’t...?”

Vili’s smile fell a little, and he sighed, nodding before Bilbo could apologize.

“Aye, that’s it. Well, that and I’m not a fighter in any sense of the word.” He shifted his crutch to his other arm, sticking his stump out. “My father wasn’t around when I was young, it was just me and my amad. We couldn’t afford any kind of prosthetic, so I never had the chance to learn to fight like other Dwarrows. Can’t ride a pony, either. All I could do was bake, like my mother.”

“I... I see...”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset about it or anything,” Vili explained as he moved his crutch around again and walked over to them. “It’s just the way things turned out. Mind, I would have liked to take Kili’s place on the quest, but that was more because I would have preferred at least one of my children didn’t run off to try and kill a dragon.”

Bilbo snorted, shifting Frodo around.

“Yes, well, I can see why you’d prefer that. I can’t imagine what I’d do if Frodo were ever to undertake such a task.”

Vili laughed, and Frodo laughed along with him before reaching for his uncle. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask him if he wanted to hold Frodo, then closed it, frowning a bit.

“Not to change the subject, but shouldn’t you still be resting?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Really, I think most of us are all but over that cold.” Vili’s eyes sparkled a little. “Although Fili seems happy to complain anyway.”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head.

“So, you came out here to escape his whining?”

“Ah, no, actually, Dis kicked me out of our quarters.” Vili chuckled. “Surprisingly enough, she and Lady Arwen have been getting along quite well.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose.

“Really?”

“Ha, well, perhaps that’s not actually that surprising. She’s always been the most diplomatic of her siblings.”

“Well, I’m sure Kili will be glad for that, since he’s quite besotted with a certain Elf.”

“Oh, Tauriel’s going to be fine, but she’s probably going to ground Kili for a month.”

Bilbo laughed again.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the week, the rest of the Dwarrows had recovered, and loathe as he was to leave the Last Homely House, Bilbo knew that staying here much longer would mean risking travelling during winter, and quite frankly he’d prefer never to trudge through miles of snow ever again. 

“It has been a pleasure having you here,  _ mellon nin,”  _ Elrond told him as he helped Bilbo into their wagon, “you and the little prince.”

Bilbo smiled and nodded, shifting Frodo around. His son was fast asleep, wrapped safely in the mithril shirt- just in case, he’d told the others when they gave him an odd look.

“Your reputation for hospitality is as well-earned as ever, Elrond.” Bilbo couldn’t help but grin. “Even when you don’t have to deal with rowdy Dwarrows bathing in your fountain.”

Elrond’s eyes sparkled with amusement, though that faded when he turned his gaze to Dis and Arwen, who were chatting near the gate. 

“I hope she’s not being too bad of an influence on her,” Elrond murmured.

“I’m sure Dis wouldn’t do that,” Bilbo countered.

“Oh, not the princess, my daughter.” Elrond’s eyes hardened. “I am certain she is the one that taught Estel how to swear.”

Bilbo blinked, then snickered into the back of his hand. Elrond sighed, shaking his head. Dis and Arwen hugged quickly, Arwen waving goodbye as Dis went to join their company. They set off shortly after, meeting Elladan and Elrohir a few miles from Rivendell so they could accompany them through the Misty Mountains.

“What did you talk about with Arwen, amad?” Fili asked after a while.

“Your crush on one of Oin’s new assistants,” Dis replied easily, her face expressionless. Fili immediately turned bright red.

“Wh- I do  _ not  _ like Naina!”

Dis smirked.

“Why, Fili, I don’t think I ever mentioned her name. In fact, I’m sure your brother never told me it in his letters.”

Fili spluttered, and the rest of the company laughed, including Bilbo.

It was almost enough to make him forget where they were, about that creature and the ring in his pocket.

“Hopefully there will be fewer goblins this time, at least...” he murmured.

Frodo simply snored in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Fili's crush did not actually come up in Dis and Arwen's conversations. 
> 
> Anyway, this was mostly just a chapter to catch up on what the Dwarves were up to and stuff. And also have Elrond's kids show up, bc I love them. And also try writing something from a baby's perspective, which is something my writing teachers all said not to do, but fuck them, I have my degree and they can't tell me what to do anymore!
> 
> It was actually really hard. I ended up going with the writing style of Winnie the Pooh for inspiration lmao
> 
> Also, the firefly thing is kind of based off an interview with Richard Armitage where he talks about a cut scene between Bilbo and Thorin in Rivendell just before Gandalf and Elrond strolled by loudly talking about the line of Durin's gold sickness. While I'm sure that was actually a somewhat serious scene, I am inherently a silly person, and the image of Thorin swatting at fireflies was too funny not to include. 
> 
> That's it for this chapter! Since I assume the goblins are probably going to be less of a problem now, and Azog is still very dead, I figured this is the best time to jump over to Thorin, who is... not doing well. At all. The next chapter might be a little depressing, so in advance, here is a silly story to lighten things up- I had to read the Hobbit for my English class in the sixth grade, which was in 2008- aka, four years before the first movie came out. Thus, given that my teacher's pronunciation of the names was all I had to go on, I spent four years thinking that "Smaug" was pronounced "Smog," and I was convinced that the character was basically Puff the Magic Dragon, but mean.
> 
> Same teacher also told a bunch of twelve-year-olds that when Thorin was described as "a little haughty," it meant that he was stuck-up, not that he was an attractive Dwarf.
> 
> Again, before the movie came out and we had Richard Armitage as Thorin.
> 
> That's all for now! Next chapter is on September 12th! Thanks for all the support, and comments are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 3: That Distant Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains depictions of a panic attack. Please be careful!

Bilbo was crying.

Thorin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion for a moment as he tried to get his bearings. He appeared to be back in Bag End, which looked the exact same as it had back in the beginning, but he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten back there.

However, Bilbo was crying, and in Thorin’s mind that took precedence over figuring out this seemingly impossible situation. He began walking through the house, following the sound of his beloved’s sobs.

“Bilbo?” He called as he approached a door at the far end of Bag End.  _ “Azyungel,  _ what is the matter-?”

The door opened without him even touching it, and suddenly Thorin was no longer in Bag End, but on top of the fort overlooking the ruins of Dale. He was surrounded by his company, and... 

And Bilbo was kneeling on the ground at his feet, panting and gasping for breath. Without thinking he took a step toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Bil-!”

Bilbo scrambled back as if burned, and when he looked up at Thorin the rage in his eyes made his stomach twist.

_ “Don’t,”  _ Bilbo rasped as he got to his feet, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ touch me, Thorin Oakenshield. Not after what you did.”

The air rushed out of Thorin’s lungs all at once, his blood turning cold.

“I... Bilbo, I’m sorry-!”

“Oh, you’re  _ sorry,  _ are you?” Bilbo spat, laughing derisively. “Sorry for  _ what,  _ exactly? For calling me a  _ rat?  _ For banishing me when all I did was try to help you?  _ For trying to kill me?” _

“I...”

“Or are you sorry,” Bilbo started, taking a step towards him, “that you chose a  _ rock  _ over  _ me,  _ whom you called the love of your life, your  _ One?  _ Was that nothing but a line? A  _ lie?” _

“No! No, never, I’d, I’d never-!”

The company seemed to be growing ever taller around them, their whispers drowning out Thorin’s own thoughts.

“Was it worth it,  _ dearest?”  _ Bilbo taunted, spitting out the last word as if it were poison. “Was your pretty stone worth the look on your dear nephews’ faces when you had me dragged out of the mountain? Was it worth the light in their eyes?”

_ Madman. Warmonger. Monster. _

“No!” He gasped as darkness started creeping in, an inky blackness covering his feet. “No, I didn’t-! I never meant to-!”

_ “You chose this,”  _ he heard Bilbo whisper, voice cold as ice.  _ “You chose the stone. You chose the madness. You chose to be a monster.” _

_ Monster. Monster. Monster. _

“I’m not-! I’m not a monster,  _ please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!” _

Thorin awoke with a wordless scream, bolting upright in bed. He gasped for breath, body shaking and heart thundering. His hair and nightclothes were soaked with sweat, and still he felt  _ cold,  _ as if his veins had turned to ice. 

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. 

He was in his bed. In Erebor. It was only a nightmare. 

Thorin gulped down another deep breath, wiping at his stinging eyes.

“Only... only a dream, nothing... nothing more. Calm down.” He swallowed, glancing at the empty space next to him. “He’s not here. He would never say such things to you.”

His eyes still burned, but his breathing had finally evened out, his heartbeat not quite so deafening. 

“Calm down,” he repeated, brushing a damp lock of hair back. There was a knock at the door just then, startling him.

“Your Majesty?” He heard his steward ask, a hint of caution in his voice. “Is- is everything alright? Why did you scream like that?”

Thorin swallowed, flushing a bit as he got out of bed.

“I- I am well, thank you. It- it was... I stubbed my toe.”

There was a pause.

“You... screamed because you stubbed your toe?”

“I... yes. It was very painful. My apologies for worrying you.”

“Er... alright, sire, if you say so. Shall I send someone to dress you-?”

“As I’ve said before, I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself,” Thorin reminded his steward, perhaps a bit too sternly. 

“Y-Yes, of course, my King.”

Thorin sighed as he stripped out of his sleeping clothes, managing to pull on a pair of trousers and boots before catching a look at himself in the mirror. He frowned at the bags under his eyes, which appeared to have grown larger in the night and were only made more obvious by the ashen color his face had seemed to permanently take on.

After a moment, Thorin grimaced and shook his head, turning away from the mirror and toward his wardrobe. He had never given much thought to his looks, and now wasn’t the time to start; he was king in more than just title now, and he had duties to fulfill.

“There are petitioners waiting for you in the throne room, your Majesty,” his steward informed him the moment Thorin left his bedroom. He resisted the urge to groan, reminding himself that being a good king meant listening to the concerns and complaints of his people.

Even if most of their issues could be resolved by just a bit of common sense. 

“Very well, then,” he responded as he grabbed a pastry off the table. He scarfed it down quickly, then took his cloak from its place near the door. He slipped it on, clearing his throat as he opened the door to the hall.

“Ah, sire?” His steward called. “Your crown?”

Thorin froze in his tracks, swallowing a lump in his throat as he turned back around. His crown was in the same place as always, glittering on a small pillow inside of a glass case. 

He had not touched it since he’d thrown it to the ground, before the battle. 

He should wear it. He  _ knew  _ he should. He was king. It was his birthright, his duty.

A beam of sunlight hit the crown, casting a golden light on the floor next to it. Thorin’s stomach clenched, and he turned away, shaking his head.

“Not today.”

His steward frowned, but bowed all the same.

“As you wish, sire.”

Thorin knew what people said of him. He heard the whispers about how he never wore his crown, had the Arkenstone on display in the treasure room rather than in the circle made for it in the throne. His people thought him humble, a plainly dressed king that put his people’s needs before his own desire for opulence.

It was easier to let them believe that. Easier to let them think him humble, and keep the truth to himself: that he was terrified to even  _ look  _ at gold, and if he had the chance he’d hurl the Arkenstone off the mountain, or perhaps even into that volcano to the south he’d heard about.

He couldn’t even look at that accursed rock without remembering how he’d chosen it over Bilbo. Over a life spent with the Hobbit he adored above all others, and he knew that Bilbo would never,  _ ever  _ forgive him for it. 

He deserved no better.

 

* * *

 

Thorin sighed as the last of the petitioners left the throne room, slumping in his throne as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Mahal save me from the stubbornness of Dwarrows...” he muttered as he stood up, grimacing and stretching to try and rid himself of the dull ache in the middle of his back. He hated to admit it, and would never do so around his sister or her sons, but he was starting to think that age was finally starting to catch up with him now that Erebor was reclaimed. 

Or perhaps it was simply because he was sleeping less and less nowadays. 

Whatever the cause, it wasn’t helping his mood at all. He sighed once more as he left the throne room, turning in the direction of his rooms.

“Your Majesty!”

Thorin paused, turning around with a raised eyebrow. He recognized the dark-skinned Dwarrowdam as one of Oin’s assistants- Naina, he remembered. Fili had a crush on her that he refused to admit to.

“Yes?”

Naina stopped when she reached him, huffing and puffing for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. 

“I... Sire, it’s, it’s Prince Kili, he’s- he’s fainted, and Master Oin told me to come and get you straight away!”

Thorin’s heart dropped into his stomach, the air rushing out of his lungs all at once. 

“Where.” It wasn’t a question, and in the back of his mind he could hear a very familiar, very Hobbit-y voice chastising him for his rudeness, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“In- He’s in the royal infirmary now, I can-!”

“Thank you,” Thorin said gruffly as he pushed past her, rushing off towards the infirmary. A thousand ailments that Kili could be suffering from flashed before his eyes, his heart pounding and his blood going cold at the thought that he could still lose him, even now, and it was his fault, his fault that Kili had come on that mad quest, had almost died,  _ it was all his fault, Kili-! _

Kili was sitting in an infirmary bed, grinning like a loon at Tauriel and seemingly oblivious to how Thorin had just stormed inside. Tauriel, on the other hand, jumped a bit, getting to her feet and bowing.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted serenely, evidently ignoring Kili’s scoff.

“You- you don’t have to...” Thorin sighed, shaking his head. He told had told her a thousand times that she didn’t have to treat him like royalty, but he suspected that Thranduil’s influence was stronger than he’d once thought. 

“Hi, Uncle,” Kili greeted cheerfully, as if he weren’t lying in the infirmary, “how was your day?”

“My- Kili!” Thorin all but ran to his nephew’s side, grabbing his face and turning it to inspect him. “Kili, what- what  _ happened?  _ Are, are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

Kili laughed, shaking his head as his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“No, no, Uncle, I’m- I’m fine, really.” His grin got wider. “Better than fine, actually, I’m- I’m ecstatic.”

Thorin blinked, then frowned, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re... ecstatic about fainting?”

Kili laughed again, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“No, that’s not- actually, I’m a little embarrassed about that part.”

“I apologize,  _ meleth nin,  _ I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Kili grinned at her, taking her hands and pulling them to his chest.

“You are more than forgiven and you know it,  _ gimlinh.” _

Tauriel smiled, and Thorin cleared his throat to remind them that he was still in the room. Kili was still grinning like a fool, and Thorin rolled his eyes.

“Kili. You still haven’t told me why you fainted.”

“Huh? Oh, um...” Kili’s grin only widened when he turned to Thorin, looking for all the world that another dragon could arrive right now and it still wouldn’t get him down. “Thorin... Thorin, you’re going to be a great-uncle.”

Thorin blinked, furrowing his brow for a moment before Kili’s meaning hit him, his eyes going wide.

“I... you...”

“I’m going to be a father,” Kili all but giggled. 

“You... oh.” Thorin smiled, trying not to show the sudden emptiness that had dropped into his gut. “That’s- that’s wonderful, Kili.”

Kili’s grin dropped, concern flashing in his eyes.

“I... Uncle, are you alright?” He shifted in his bed slightly. “You’re- you’re not upset, are you?”

“No! No, Kili, of course not, I...” It was getting harder and harder to keep smiling. “I’m very happy for you- both of you. Really.”

Neither Kili nor Tauriel looked at all convinced at that, and Thorin knew that there was a number of ways things could go wrong if either of them pressed him. He quickly stood, doing his best to keep his smile from wavering.

“I- I apologize, but it’s- it has been a long day, so I must take my leave of you. Congratulations to you both.”

Kili called to him as he turned away, but he didn’t even hesitate as he rushed out of the infirmary, his stomach turning violently as he headed for his chambers.

He should be happy. Kili was happy, Tauriel was happy, Dis would be happy once she finished chewing Kili out, it- it was supposed to be a happy occasion.

A new child coming into the world was supposed to be a joyful occasion.

He wanted to be happy for his nephew, more than anything.

So why, then...?

Thorin greeted his steward with a wordless nod, entering his private rooms and locking the door behind him. He grit his teeth, reaching up and threading his hands into his hair.

“Stop it,” he muttered, tightening his fists. “Stop it, stop being so... you should be happy. You have everything you ever wanted, don’t you?”

He had his home. His family. His throne. The dragon was dead. The pale orc was dead. 

Everything was perfect. 

So why, then...?

_ “You are changed, Thorin. The Dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!” _

The air in Thorin’s lungs escaped all at once, his chest aching with the memory. He took a small, shaky breath, his throat tight as his eyes started to sting.

For all the gold-sickness took from him, it had not seen fit to take the memory of what he said, what he  _ did.  _ He remembered it all- doubting his family, going back on his word to the Men, letting a senseless war rage outside his doorstep, hurting-!

His knees finally went out from underneath him, though he barely registered the fact that he was now on the floor.

He’d hurt Bilbo. His Bilbo, who had loved him, who had only wanted to help him, who had seen what he was becoming and tried to stop it, his One, and he had... the last thing he’d said to him was an insult, no matter how his mind tried to insist Bilbo had been there when he felled Azog. 

And now, he’d never have a chance to say he was sorry, because Bilbo wasn’t there when he awoke. He hadn’t waited for him.

Bilbo didn’t love him anymore. Why would he?  _ How  _ could he, after what Thorin did to him? He was gone, gone,  _ gone,  _ home with his armchair and books and garden, and he’d find someone else to share his life with, a kindly, pleasant Hobbit perhaps, and he’d forget all about that awful Dwarrow who had promised his love and then thrown him away for...

For what? Gold? A worthless piece of shiny glass? 

Petty trinkets. Cold, lifeless treasure that Thorin couldn’t even  _ look  _ at anymore.

He’d driven him away, and it was for  _ nothing. _

It wasn’t until his body was shaking with sobs that Thorin realized he was crying at all. 

He was pathetic. What was he doing, still grieving after all this time? It was foolish, especially when it was his own fault. 

And what sort of king- what sort of  _ Dwarf  _ was he that he couldn’t look at treasure? Erebor’s wealth was once the pride of his people, and now...

Now he was afraid of it. 

Thorin grit his teeth, fingernails digging into his scalp for a split second before pulling his hands out of his hair.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered darkly, “and it can go on no longer.”

He stood slowly, first going to wipe off his face so he’d at least look presentable, then taking a deep breath before walking purposefully out of his quarters and towards the treasury.

 

* * *

 

Thorin hadn’t been in this part of the mountain since it had been rededicated, and that was only because Balin had coaxed him into it, saying that the king should be present at such an occasion. He had been present right up until his presence was no longer needed, which was when he quickly bowed out and retreated to his rooms, his stomach churning violently all the while.

Much like it was doing now, actually. Everything in him was screaming to turn back now, while he still could, every step feeling more and more like he was wading through molasses. 

But he couldn’t stop now- this was the closest he’d come to this area since the dedication, and he couldn’t keep living in fear like this, else he’d end up losing his mind all over again.

Thorin stared at the door for a long while, trying to convince himself that the handle would not, in fact, sear the skin right off his palm if he touched it. He took a breath, then grabbed it and pulled it open so quickly that he heard the wood splinter and strain. 

The light in the chamber nearly blinded him. Even now, even after the dragon and the Men were paid as they needed, the gold still piled high, the floor only visible for a short while once the steps ended before being overtaken by treasure. There were still mountains of it, areas deep enough that, as he’d once told his grandfather as a young child, you could swim in it. 

And high above it all, hanging from the ceiling in a glass display case, was the Arkenstone. Were it not for the way it glittered and glowed, someone entering from this part of the room might never have even noticed it.

However, even if it hadn’t emitted a soft light all its own, Thorin would still have been hyper-aware of its presence. Even if he could barely see it now, he still remembered how it- how it felt, seeing it for the first time in years, in Bard’s hand as he tried to bargain for what his people were owed.

He’d wanted that stupid rock so  _ desperately  _ then, had been blinded by rage at the sight of it in the hands of an outsider. It had called to him, reminded him of what they’d lost and what they’d have now, and if he had to wage war to see it returned to him, then...

_ Then so be it.  _

Now, as he walked into the chamber, the thrall was gone, whatever curse that thrice-damned worm broken like a bad fever, and yet here Thorin was, still drowning in sweat. The memories burned in his mind, in his gut, his chest, his soul, and nothing would ever douse the flames, not so long as-!

His foot caught on a wayward scepter in his path, and Thorin went stumbling forward, falling face first into a pile of gold coins. He spluttered, trying to regain his balance, only to find that there was nothing more solid than the coins to grab onto. 

He started to sink.

The air rushed out of his lungs all at once. He struggled against the flow of the coins, but it was no use, he couldn’t get back on his feet and of course this was how he was going to die, either crushed to death under the weight or suffocating-  _ drowning  _ in gold, and perhaps it wasn’t actually going to be the floor in the Gallery of the Kings that swallowed him up but this was no better, he was going to die in gold and there was nothing he could do. How long would it be before they found him? What would they think?

Would they think he’d succumbed to gold-sickness once more?

Would they hate him? Pity him?

Would they tell Bilbo what became of him?

Would he even care?

_ Why should he? _

A depressing last thought to have, for sure, but perhaps fitting for all he’d done. Thorin could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, the clinking of coins in his ears, and he closed his eyes.

And then, someone grabbed the back of his cloak and pulled on it, and suddenly he was lying on his back, staring up at the concerned faces of his family and friends.

Thorin blinked. 

“Thorin?” Kili asked, eyes full of concern. “Uncle, what- what were you  _ doing?” _

Thorin flushed, despair quickly replaced by embarrassment.

“I... I was...” he cleared his throat as he sat up, rejecting Bifur and Balin’s help in standing up. “Nothing. Never you mind that.”

“Uncle...” Kili started, taking a step towards him. Thorin took a step back.

“I’m  _ fine,  _ Kili, really.” He turned away, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stand the look on his nephew’s face. “I apologize for worrying you all-!”

Bifur grabbed his arm as he passed, giving him a solemn look.

_ “Thorin, if there’s something wrong, you can tell us.” _

“Aye, laddie, he’s right,” Balin added. “You may be our king now, but you’ve been our friend longer.”

Thorin swallowed thickly, his heart pounding as he drew his arm back.

“I’m not- there is nothing wrong. You needn’t worry.”

“You just fell into a bunch of coins and started flailing,” Gloin deadpanned. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Thorin grit his teeth, folding his arms behind his back.

“It was an accident, I tripped and became disoriented. That’s all.”

They didn’t look any more convinced, and Kili took a step towards him.

“Uncle, if... if you’re not...  _ feeling well...” _

Something in Thorin’s brain clicked then, and he exhaled quietly, plastering a gentle smile on his face. 

“No, Kili, it’s not that. If it were that, I would tell you.” He took a step back, towards the door. “I’m fine. I just...”

He trailed off, not quite sure how to end that sentence. He just... what?

He was just tired?

He was just lonely?

He just wanted to stop being afraid?

He just wanted to stop being so bloody  _ miserable,  _ in this place that he’d longed for, travelled half a world for, fought for, nearly  _ died  _ for?

He just wanted to be _ happy _ for once?

Any one of those was the truth. 

But how could any of them understand that? They were all so happy here, to be home at last, and Thorin...

“I just need some time,” he muttered, turning away and all but running out of the chamber. He heard the others call after him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t look back until he was back in his rooms once more. Even then, he did not stop moving, heading straight towards the bookshelf in his study.

Though he hadn’t technically been allowed to, Thorin had often played in his grandfather’s quarters as a child. His grandfather, back before the gold had plagued his mind, had been kind enough to ignore the rule breaking, and had even shown him a few secrets within his quarters (“you’d know them one day anyway, little one. This shall be yours, after all.”)

One such secret was the passageway hidden behind the bookshelf. It had been unaffected by years of disuse and the residency of a dragon, giving him a perfect way to escape the mountain should there be an emergency.

That was its purpose, in any case. Thorin, on the other hand, just needed out of the mountain for a time.

He wouldn’t go far. Just a walk to clear his head.

 

* * *

 

Thorin had not meant to go as far as the mouth of the River Running. 

He couldn’t say he was unhappy to be there, exactly- for all the complaints he’d had about their time on the Long Lake (and in Bard’s toilet, which was an experience he’d not like to repeat), the River was something he’d always been fond of. It reminded him of simpler times, when his parents would take him and Dis and Frerin down to the shore during summer. 

Secretly, he’d thought about getting a boat of his own once, and sailing away from the kingdom, the throne, the crown. Admittedly, he’d been but sixty-two, still a child and rebellious, but it had been a happy thought, a dream to placate him during endless lessons that seemed to only serve to test his patience.

But he’d grown up, and it became clear that leaving the throne to Frerin was a terrible idea. So he’d given up that dream, at least until one of them had grown children who were ready to take the throne. 

Had it not been for Smaug, he’d probably have spent his life in the mountain, and that would have been fine. He would have served his people well, without complaint, and he would have been satisfied with that life.

It was what he was supposed to do. That’s why he went back, when Gandalf made his offer. 

And then.

Then there was Bilbo. Bilbo, with his fussy mannerisms and snort-filled laugh, his honeyed curls and pointed ears that turned red and twitched when he was irritated, his bright grin and dark blue eyes that Thorin could almost see stars in.

And for once, even if just for a moment, Thorin forgot about the throne. He forgot about the dragon, the crown, the responsibilities of his birthright, about being Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

For a moment, he was just Thorin. Bilbo’s Thorin.

And that was enough-  _ more  _ than enough. He had a duty to his people to retake Erebor, but slowly, his heart wanted it less and less.

He wanted Erebor less and less, at least for himself. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like home. 

His home was a pair of dark blue eyes bright with mirth, honeyed curls bouncing in the breeze, a tiny body eating three large fish on its own and then half a loaf of bread, only pausing to be quietly express disappointment that there was no bacon.

Thorin sighed, grabbing a rock and skipping it across the river. It bounced twice before falling into the river with a plunk, swept away by the current. 

It was an odd thing. For years and years, all he’d wanted was to go home, and now that he was in Erebor he...

Well. He  _ still  _ wanted to go home.

“Of all the Hobbits in the world...” Thorin muttered, not for the first time cursing Gandalf for everything. If he had only picked  _ literally anyone else,  _ then maybe...

No, Thorin would still be miserable, if he wasn’t dead. It was not Gandalf’s fault that he was miserable. 

He had no one to blame for that but himself.

Thorin turned his head to stare into the distance, towards the North border of Mirkwood. His heart twinged and tugged at him, as if to say “this way, home is this way.”

He couldn’t help but let out a humorless little chuckle; not for a moment did he think that Bilbo would ever want to see him again. He’d be lucky if the Hobbit only slammed the door in his face without punching him. 

Still, though, the pull was strong, and he did have to admit, this was the best he’d felt in... since he’d woken up, really. The fear that he would relapse into gold-sickness was still there, but not so heavy on his heart, making it hard to breathe and impossible to relax.

Fili was still young, he thought, but he  _ would  _ have Dis and Balin to guide him, and he already had the makings of a great king. 

The company had settled into the mountain easily, too. They had their own lives now.

They didn’t need him to lead them anymore.

Perhaps... perhaps the mountain didn’t need him anymore.

Thorin stood up, dusting off the sand on the back of his trousers before turning to head back towards the mouth of the passage. 

It would take time, of course. Even more since he couldn’t ask Balin for help with it, because even if Balin was his advisor, he was also his friend, and knowing Balin he’d try to talk him out of it.

And yes, perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. Perhaps it was a selfish one.

But Thorin had given his life to his people, had shed blood and sweat and tears for them, and he’d reclaimed their home, done his best to guide them back into their old lives or the lives of their forefathers- he’d done everything he could for them.

Hadn’t he earned the right to a little selfishness?

And yes, there was no guarantee that if he made it that far, Bilbo would want to see him again.

But even then, even if Bilbo turned him away...

Well. He’d always wanted to go to the Great Sea, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter today instead of next week cause I don't know if I'll be able to do it next week. I'll do my best, but no promises :P
> 
> Anyway, I thought long and hard about how I wanted to write Thorin here, and I decided that someone who saw (maybe hallucinated? idk it was a weird scene) himself literally drowning in gold would probably not do too well around gold afterward. Especially since, y'know, he has to deal with the fact that his love of gold and a rock led him to wage a war that killed a shit ton of people and drove away the love of his life (or so he thinks). 
> 
> I dunno, I just haven't seen a whole lot of fics where Thorin's feelings about gold are paid a lot of attention to, cause I doubt after what happened he could just be like... fine. 
> 
> tl;dr- Thorin is very dramatic and probably going through some post-traumatic stress related to gold and I didn't want to ignore that.
> 
> On a lighter note, I've been rereading the Hobbit and I'm very amused how often Bilbo thinks about food. He thinks about it a LOT y'all. Especially bacon. 
> 
> That's it for this chapter! Next time, Bilbo and co. will arrive at Beorn's, then head off to Mirkwood, which will... hopefully involve less spiders. And less imprisonment. Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far, they really do make my day!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 4: Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief references to transphobia

“Little bunny!”

Bilbo smiled at the nickname, tossing a quick look at his companions when they laughed.

“Hello, Beorn. You’re looking well this morning.”

Beorn chuckled, kneeling down so that he wasn’t towering over them quite so much.

“Same to you, my friend. I see you had your kit!”

Bilbo grinned, adjusting Frodo so that he could get a better look at the skin-changer.

“I did indeed. Frodo, sweetheart, can you say hi to Mr. Beorn?”

Frodo waved, but didn’t vocalize- he seemed a bit stunned, which Bilbo couldn’t blame him for. After all, Beorn was probably the biggest person he’d ever seen in his very short life, and even then most of that short life had been spent in the company of Hobbits. 

Beorn, for his part, didn’t seem to take offense at Frodo’s silence, smiling gently and holding out one enormous pinky finger to him.

“Hello, little one. It is good to meet you.”

Frodo blinked, then wordlessly reached out to the finger, patting it almost reverently. Beorn laughed, which in turn made Frodo giggle. 

“Well, come in, come in! I’m certain you all are tired from your long journey!”

Beorn stood, leading them inside the house.

“Shoulda brought a baby last time if this is how he reacts to ‘em,” he heard Nori mutter behind him, though before he could turn to glare at him, he heard him cry out in pain, and a surprisingly smug Ori walked past him. “Ugh... oh, for Mahal’s sake, Dwalin, would ya just propose to my brother already? Make your stupid smitten face worth it.”

“Watch it,” he heard Dwalin warn lowly, the growl in his voice a clear sign of embarrassment.

“Or what, you’ll throw me in the stocks? Wouldn’t that be a blast from the past-! Ow!”

“Both of you, hush. Remember, our host likes Bilbo, but he isn’t as fond of us.”

“Yes, Lady Dis...”

Bilbo tutted, rolling his eyes. Dis had a point, of course, but that was really something they should have remembered already, especially since last time, they were running from a  _ bear  _ when they got here.

Frodo cooed in awe as they walked through Beorn’s front hall, reaching out to touch the bumblebees as big as his head.

“No, no, sweetling, don’t bother them. They’ll get quite cross with you, I’m sure.”

Beorn laughed as he pulled out a teapot as large as Bilbo, shaking his head.

“It’s quite alright, my friend, they’ll all be gentle with the little prince. They’ve all been quite excited to meet him.”

As if on cue, a doe and her faun came up to them, nosing at Frodo carefully. Frodo giggled, reaching out and patting the doe’s snout. 

“Gentle, darling, gentle.” 

After a moment of this rather adorable exchange, the doe and her faun stepped back, lowering their front halves as if bowing before walking away.

“Well. It seems even animals are more respectful to royalty than certain Woodland Kings,” he heard Dori mutter, making him roll his eyes.

“While I do agree that Thranduil could stand to be a bit more respectful, I’d like to point out that I am not royalty, and Thorin doesn’t know Frodo exists, making his status as a prince somewhat nebulous, I think.”

There was a pause, and when Bilbo looked back at the Dwarves, each of them had a confused look on their faces.

“What?”

“You... you are royalty, though?” Fili started, eyebrow arched.

Bilbo blinked.

“What? No I’m not, unless having a king’s child automatically makes me part of the Royal Family.”

“No, but you’re the Consort,” Dwalin explained slowly. Bilbo blinked again, furrowing his brow.

“I... I’m fairly sure I’m not? I think I’d remember marrying Thorin... er...” Bilbo trailed off, confusion only worsening when he realized that the others had all paled. “What? Why are you look at me like that?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Ori asked, voice oddly gentle.

“Tell... who, Thorin? What didn’t he tell me?” The Dwarves started whispering amongst themselves nervously, and Bilbo grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t just whisper, tell me what’s got you lot in such a panic!”

Dis sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“The mithril shirt Frodo’s wrapped in, it was given to you by my brother, was it not?”

“Well, yes. What about it?”

“And he gave it to you in front of the others?”

“Er... yes, in front of the company.” Bilbo shifted, not sure he liked where this was going. “What are you saying?”

“That mithril shirt is a masterwork, an heirloom of our family only second in worth to the Arkenstone. By giving it to you in front of others, especially a group that contained his own family and advisor, Thorin was essentially declaring you worthy to have such a thing, and therefore worthy to be his consort.”

Bilbo blinked once, twice, three times before his mouth fell open.

“Wait, he... he was proposing to me?!”

The Dwarves nodded.

“And- wait, did- I accepted, so that’s-?!”

“You accepted his proposal, yes,” Dori informed him. “It’s- it’s not an  _ official  _ marriage, mind, but considering that Dwarrow don’t take betrothal lightly, well... you’re as good as married to him.”

“Congratulations...?” Fili offered.

Bilbo was quite lost for words for a least a full minute, stammering and making small squawking noises before his voice returned to him.

“Oh that-! I cannot believe he would-! I swear, if this is about Doderick, then he is  _ never  _ going to hear the end of it!”

“Uh... and Doderick is...?” Bofur prompted.

“Hm? Oh, just- someone I almost married when I was younger, don’t worry about him. I cannot  _ believe _ that confounded...”

Given that the Dwarves started demanding to know just who he was talking about when he said that, Bilbo was certain it would come up again, but, well, he was a bit focused on Thorin  _ marrying him apparently  _ at the moment.

He’d come clean about it soon enough.

Still, his anger did dissipate a bit when he heard Dis murmur “ah, he’s definitely a keeper, that one.”

 

* * *

 

They spent a bit more time at Beorn’s this time around, a week instead of five days. Ostensibly, this was because it started to rain on the second day, and no one wanted to go travelling in the rain, which, while true, seemed secondary to the reason that they’d spent the past month on the road and needed a rest.

Bilbo didn’t mind, of course. It was as lovely as ever to see Beorn, with an added bonus that this time, he wasn’t suffering from morning sickness and alternating between mourning Thorin and cursing him for- a great many things, really. Mostly dying and leaving him to raise a half-Dwarven child all on his own.

Of course, he hadn’t been aware of the little detail that Thorin wasn’t actually dead. 

And also had  _ bloody proposed to him. _

“I swear, Frodo, when we reach that damned mountain, I’m going to have  _ words  _ with your adad,” Bilbo muttered, bouncing Frodo in his lap gently. “... I probably should stop cursing around you, shouldn’t I? You’ll start talking soon- well, talking more, I suppose, and I don’t want you growing up with a potty mouth.”

Frodo gurgled, too preoccupied with a rather large caterpillar on the bush neary the back porch to pay much attention to his father. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head.

“Of course, if you’re anything like your grandmother...”

Bilbo couldn’t quite finish that thought, instead hugging Frodo closer to him.

His mother would have adored Frodo, regardless of the circumstances of his birth- or rather, the circumstances of his parents. Goodness, she probably would have loved  _ Thorin,  _ too.

Or, at least, would’ve loved teasing the poor Dwarf. Yavanna knows she would have been more brazen than some of Bilbo’s Dwarrows. Would’ve fit right in.

And his father...

Bilbo sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of Frodo’s head.

“Well, that’s for me to regret, isn’t it?”

Frodo cooed, then made a curious sound, pointing out into the field.

“Oh-ree!”

“Hm?” Bilbo blinked as he looked up, smiling a little. “Oh, there’s Ori and Dwa... oh. Oh my.”

Bilbo suddenly felt as though he were intruding on a very private moment indeed, what with a ruddy-cheeked Dwalin saying something Bilbo couldn’t quite make out to Ori, who looked caught somewhere between overjoyed and startled. Dwalin ducked out of sight behind the rose bushes, and for a moment, there was quiet.

Then Ori started to laugh. 

Bilbo’s heart sank, a lump forming in his throat. It was Ori’s choice, of course it was, but... well, he’d never thought he’d say  _ no,  _ or be the type to-!

His thoughts cut off abruptly when he saw Ori take something out of his own pocket, followed by a laugh from Dwalin as he stood up. The two came together in a kiss, and Bilbo let out a sigh of relief, followed by a bit of shame that he ever could have thought  _ Ori  _ that cruel. 

Impatient, however, he wasn’t surprised about in the slightest.

“Well, finally,” he heard someone mutter behind him, making him jump and startle poor Frodo. His son let out a whine, and he hushed him before he turned to give the intruder- Nori, unsurprisingly- a look.

“Really, Nori, I’d have thought you’d leave Ori to his own devices by now.”

Nori snorted as he took a seat next to Bilbo.

“Nah, wasn’t looking for him.”

Bilbo blinked, surprised.

“Oh?”

“Yup.” Nori smirked at him. “I was looking for you.”

Bilbo blinked once more, then let out a groan, shaking his head.

“Your turn to get the story about Doderick out of me, is it?”

“‘Fraid so, laddie.” Nori shrugged. “Course, I don’t care one way or the other...”

This, of course, was an absolute lie, and Bilbo was certain Nori knew that, but he was in a charitable enough mood not to call him on it. Instead, he bit his lip, then sighed again, sitting up straight.

“If I’m going to tell this story, then I’d rather do it with everyone around to hear it. And I’d like to at least see who I’m telling it to,  _ Fili.” _

There was a yelp, followed by a thud from the ash tree nearby, and a few minutes later Fili emerged from a bush, twigs tangled in his hair.

“How’d you know I was there?”

“Secret of the trade,” Bilbo replied.

“What trade?”

“The burglar trade, of course. Could you go round up the others, please?”

He heard Fili grumble about how he hadn’t even been a burglar that long as he walked away, and Bilbo rolled his eyes once more. A few minutes later, the Dwarves and Beorn were sat around him, although he wasn’t certain if Dwalin and Ori were really paying attention to him considering how they were looking at each other.

He took a breath.

“Right, well. I- I was thirty-six, as was Doderick- Doderick Banks, I mean. We’d been courting for- well, we’d been playing at courting since were were tweens, but we’d only been officially together for three years, since we came of age.” He smiled, allowing Frodo to grab at his finger. “I was surprised as anyone when he asked me to marry him, but I was young and in love, so... I said yes.”

A few of the Dwarves cooed, and Dis and Vili looked rather amused. Fili, on the other hand, was frowning, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Now, Fili, don’t look at me like that. I haven’t seen him in... well, that comes later. Anyway, I was all set to marry him, but...” Bilbo trailed off for a moment, and Frodo made a curious sound. 

“... what happened?” Dis prompted. Bilbo sighed, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

“My father passed away. Rather suddenly, actually- he caught a cold, you see, and it turned into pneumonia and...”

The Dwarves all gave him sympathetic looks, and Bilbo gave them a small smile.

“The wedding had to be delayed, of course- can’t have a proper wedding while the...” Bilbo swallowed. “Um. Well. I suppose there’s- there’s one detail that I should have...”

He glanced at them again, then looked down and took a deep breath.

“Doderick... Doderick didn’t propose to  _ Bilbo  _ Baggins. I... I hope you understand what I mean when I say that.”

It took a moment, but a look of understanding passed over their faces, followed by more sympathy.

“It was... well, it was my father’s passing that made me- well, not  _ realize  _ exactly, just... anyway. A few weeks before the wedding, I... well, I couldn’t take it anymore.” He swallowed, hugging Frodo close to his chest. “I was grieving, and I just- I loved Doderick, I did, but I just couldn’t stand the idea of being his... his wi...”

He shuddered, startling when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bofur gave him a gentle smile, and he swallowed, courage welling up in his gut.

“I couldn’t stand it, and I told my mother as much. Told her everything, and...” he smiled a bit. “Well, she held me tight for quite some time after, until I finally calmed down a bit, and then she took me out to Bree to get new clothes made.”

His eyes were starting to get a bit damp, and he sniffed.

“She was, she was so kind and supportive. I daresay she wasn’t even surprised.” He swallowed. “Can’t... can’t say the same about other people, though. Or Doderick, he wasn’t... well, I found out the hard way that he wasn’t interested in marrying  _ Bilbo  _ Baggins.”

His Dwarves looked disgruntled, and Bilbo chuckled despite the way his eyes were stinging.

“No, it’s- that was his right, although I still think he could have been kinder about it. Though I  _ did  _ throw the ring he gave me at his head, so that probably didn’t help.” He sighed. “In any case, we called off the engagement. Ended up losing most of my friends, too. Not many people wanted to... well. It took me quite a while to become respectable again, that’s all I’ll say.”

The Dwarves were quiet, and Bilbo found he couldn’t make himself look at them again.

“... Bilbo?” He heard Fili ask after a moment. “Is- is that why you didn’t tell us that you’re...?”

Bilbo cringed, shifting Frodo in his arms a bit.

“I... I know it’s, it’s unkind to just assume you’d be the same as... please understand, it was a very...  _ turbulent  _ time in my life when I first became- well, myself, I suppose, and people’s reactions were... I know now that you’d never-!”

Bilbo’s ramblings, thankfully, were cut off when a gaggle of Dwarves surround him, pulling him into a hug. He blinked, then smiled, even as tears still flowed down his face.

If there was anything that Bilbo was truly thankful for, it was his family.

 

* * *

 

They left Beorn’s house the day after Dwalin and Ori got engaged, reaching Mirkwood in the evening. To their surprise, there were Elves waiting for them, led by the Woodland prince.

To their continued surprise, it turned out that no one knew the prince’s name.

“I think... it might have been Egg?” Bofur suggested quietly as the Elves led them through the wood, which thankfully had started to turn green once more.

“No, no, that’s silly. It’s... it was Figwit, wasn’t it?” Dori offered. “I’m sure it was Figwit.”

“What sort of name is  _ Figwit?” _ Dwalin asked. “Even for a tree-shagger.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, then blinked, raising an eyebrow when he saw that the prince was making odd faces at Frodo.

He bit back a grin. It seemed that Frodo, unlike his adad, had a way with Elves. Even Thranduil seemed a bit taken with the lad when they arrived at his court, a shockingly genuine smile playing at his lips the entire time.

“I didn’t even know his mouth could  _ do  _ that,” Fili whispered. Bilbo shushed him, then quickly turned his attention back to the Woodland King.

“Prince Legolas, please make sure our...  _ guests  _ are comfortable in their quarters.”

Bilbo bit back a shudder as Bofur muttered something about being the closest on Legolas’ name, suddenly remembering the awful few weeks he’d spent sneaking around this place, Thranduil’s cold speech to Thorin about just how long he could wait for a promise of the gems...

“We’re only staying the night?” He whispered to Dis as they were shepherded through the halls. She nodded, keeping a diplomatic smile on her face.

“Aye. The gems of Lasgalen have been returned, so he’s got nothing to bargain for, but I don’t trust that weed-eater far as I can throw him. We’ll be in Erebor in two days’ time, if all goes well.” She smirked a bit. “Eager to see my brother, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the teasing, even if he couldn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach.

“And what if I am?”

She laughed, clapping him on the back.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re leaving in the morning, isn’t it?”

Bilbo grinned, then swallowed.

Two days. Just two more days, and he’d be on Thorin’s doorstep.

With a baby.  _ Their  _ baby.

He almost missed the dragon.

 

* * *

 

It had taken Thorin several hours in the library to find the right books. He’d had to journey deep into the shelves and scale more than a few to find them, but he’d made it.

Though not without wishing more than once that Ori hadn’t gone along with Dwalin to retrieve his sister and brother-in-law. If Dwalin didn’t return with a betrothal braid in his beard, with a matching one in Ori’s, Thorin would smack him.

Or, rather, he’d tell Kili to do so in his stead, since he wasn’t going to be there. If he didn’t finish this letter and leave before Dis arrived, there was no way he’d ever do it, and then he’d be stuck here for the rest of his life and eventually lose his mind thanks to his irrational gold-repulsion.

Not the point. The point was, he had the books he needed, and though it still took him some time to find the right pages, he now had the information he needed to properly compose this statement and make sure it was binding.

And so, he dipped his quill in the inkwell, taking a breath before putting pen to paper.

_ I, Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, do hereby abdicate the throne of Erebor and relinquish my role as King Under the Mountain, citing an unsound mind as the cause. I name my sister-son Fili, son of Vili, as my successor. May Mahal’s blessing be on him, and all of Erebor. _

He signed his name at the bottom, adding the runes for it below as was customary for such a contract. Once that was done, he put the letter to the side to dry out, then grabbed another piece of paper.

_ Balin- _

_ I am sorry that I cannot say this to you in person, but I fear that you would only try to talk me out of it. The truth is, I am not well. I have not been well since I awoke.  _

_ I know what you are thinking, and it is not that. I am not gold sick; rather, the opposite. I cannot stand to be around gold, and the Arkenstone haunts me. What I did to get it back haunts me. I am not fit to be king of this mountain, and if I keep going on like this, I fear I will lose my mind once more. _

_ Guide Fili well, as you have guided me. When I arrive where I am going, I will send a raven, and perhaps share happy news if all goes well. I shall not tell you where I’m going now, though, because you or Fili or Kili would most likely try to follow me. Still, because I know you, I shall have to be clear: _

_ For my last order as your king, please. Do not look for me once I’ve gone. It is better this way. _

_ Thank you for everything. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for this. _

_ May Mahal smile on you. _

_ Thorin _

He sighed as he finished writing the last letter of his name, placing the letter next to the other. He closed the books, slipping them back into a bag before standing up. He’d just leave them in the library- no one would notice them among the other books that needed to be reshelved.

Well, they might after Thorin left. But then, he’d be well on his way to the Shire by the time they noticed, so long as he travelled through the night. He had it all planned out, and no one would be the wiser, not even-!

“Balin!” Thorin exclaimed after opening his door to find his friend on the other side, fist raised as if to knock. “I- what, what are you doing here so late?”

“I’ve... just received word from your sister, er... what are  _ you  _ doing with that bookbag?”

Thorin shuffled, pulling the flap over the books.

“Returning them to the library.”

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“It’s when I have time to do it. What did Dis have to say?”

Balin didn’t seem like he believed him, but he didn’t press him on it, instead smiling warmly.

“She and the others have reached Mirkwood. If all goes well, they’ll arrive in a few days.”

Thorin blinked, then quickly forced a smile to mask the way his stomach suddenly dropped.

“That’s wonderful!”

He needed to get out of this mountain tomorrow night or he was  _ doomed.  _

“Aye, it’s been far too long since the Royal Family was all together. Longer still since they’ve been in the mountain.”

Thorin’s smile became even more forced, guilt rising in his chest at the thought that that wasn’t true, that it would never be true because once he left, there was little chance he’d ever return to the mountain.

But he couldn’t tell Balin that.

“Indeed,” he said, nodding curtly. “Although I can’t imagine she’ll be pleased to find out that she’s going to be a grandmother when she hasn’t even met her future daughter-in-law.”

Balin chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll hear her all the way from Mirkwood when she learns about that.” Balin’s smile fell slightly. “Kili told me, though, that you didn’t seem all that thrilled when they told you about the baby.”

Thorin blinked, then sighed gently.

“Perhaps I didn’t express myself well, I will admit, but that does not mean I am not happy for the two of them.” He smirked. “As I would tell my council if they asked.”

Well, if they asked at their meeting tomorrow, since after that Thorin had no plans to see any of those small-minded, stubborn,  _ dotty  _ old Dwarrows ever again. 

But again, that was for Thorin to know and Balin to find out.

“You might tell the lad that, then,” Balin replied. “He worries about you, you know. We all do.”

Thorin valiantly fought the urge to flinch, instead adjusting his book bag on his shoulder and walking out of his doorway, closing the door behind him.

“You shouldn’t. I’m fine, Balin, really.”

“Thorin, tell me, how long have we known each other?”

He bit back a groan as he approached the outer door of his quarters, grabbing the handle.

“Balin, really-!”

“How long?”

Thorin sighed.

“Over one hundred and fifty years, and don’t ask me to be more specific, because I can’t.”

“Right, right.” He heard Balin’s footsteps get closer. “Over a century and a half, and yet, you still don’t think I know when you’re not telling me something.”

Thorin flinched, adjusting the bag again.

“I... it’s nothing, Balin, really. I just... I’ve been having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

Silence. Then a hand landed on Thorin’s shoulder.

“Thorin. If something’s troubling you, I’d be happy to listen.”

He clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on the strap.

How could he ever even  _ begin  _ to explain to Balin what was happening to him? How could he make him understand that their mountain, their homeland that they’d fought for, bled for, that good Dwarrow  _ died  _ for, was making him  _ miserable,  _ like his mind was only a second from slipping away from him?

How could he explain that?

Thorin swallowed, shaking his head.

“It’s just insomnia, Balin, nothing more. If it gets worse, I’ll talk to Oin, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thorin-!”

He opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

“It’s late, Balin, and I need to return these books.”

He heard Balin sigh.

“... very well, then. I mean it, though- you should make sure Kili knows you’re as proud of him as you say you are.”

Thorin paused, turning back and smiling at Balin.

“I’ll do that, next time I see him.”

Balin nodded, then bowed.

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

He nodded, then turned to head to the library.

He’d tell Kili tomorrow, of course. If nothing else, his nephew deserved to know how proud he was of him.

Although... he might doubt it once Thorin was gone.

Perhaps he should write him a letter as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin this is not a healthy way to cope please talk to your loved ones
> 
> Anyway, Bilbo and Company are almost to Erebor now! Hopefully they'll make it before Thorin runs off lmao ;P  
> You'll just have to wait and seeeeee
> 
> Not too much to say about this one, other than I couldn't figure out if any of the Dwarves we have on this mini-quest (and Bilbo) actually knew Legolas' name (couldn't find a scene in the movies, and he's not named in the book). 
> 
> Also, I know that "Figwit" is what Lindir was called from FOTR to AUJ, being "Frodo is great- who is THAT?" due to the fact that Bret McKenzie is distractingly pretty, but it amused me to think that the Dwarves might think that was Legolas' name lmao
> 
> That's it for this week! I'm considering moving updates to Fridays, because I always have homework on Wednesdays, so if I manage to finish the next chapter in time, there will be an update on the 28th. Thanks for the great response so far!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 5: And Rewrite an Ending or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mentions and depictions of a trans man being/having been pregnant, gender dysphoria, allusions to transphobia.

Kili would be the first to admit that he didn’t have the talent for politics or strategy the rest of his family had. 

Oh, sure, he could keep up with the lessons and lectures well enough, but it wasn’t really a strength of his. Fili was much more suited to the throne, which was why Kili was  _ infinitely  _ grateful to have been born the second son and second heir- he wouldn’t have made a good king, for one. He just wasn’t particularly skilled at diplomacy, or the law, or whatever.

He did have some talent in baking, thanks to his adad, but that was neither here nor there.

Still, he knew where his weaknesses were, and he was glad he’d likely never be king.

But he also wasn’t an idiot. Foolhardy and reckless, yes, but not an idiot.

Which was why when Thorin said that he was fine, Kili didn’t believe him for a second. Anyone with half a brain and at least one eye could’ve seen that there was something wrong with his uncle, that there had been something plaguing his thoughts since he awoke from mountain-sleep. 

Unfortunately, what he  _ didn’t  _ know was how to approach Thorin and confront him about it. 

“Just talk to him,” Tauriel told him for what had to be the billionth time. Kili groaned as he tugged his tunic on, giving her a look. 

“Tauriel, I love you, but you’re not a member of the line of Durin.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Considering that I’m an Elf, that seems rather obvious.”

“Yes, but the thing about us Durins is that we? We aren’t particularly good at talking about our feelings. Thorin especially.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes, walking over to Kili and cupping his face in her hands.

_ “Meleth nin.  _ You know that I adore you.”

Kili grinned up at her.

“Course you do. It’d be odd if we were having a baby and you didn’t like me.”

Tauriel smiled.

“Do you know why I love you, Kili?”

“My rugged good looks?” Kili suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. Tauriel rolled her eyes, kissing his forehead.

“You  _ are  _ very handsome, yes. But that’s not why I love you. I love you because of your heart, your courage.” She pressed her forehead to his. “I love you, and I know that if you talk to him, it will help your uncle.”

Kili pursed his lips, then sighed, nodding before leaning up and kissing her.

“Why do you always have to be right?”

“I don’t have to be, I just often am,” she replied easily before turning him around and pushing him towards the door. “Off you go, then. I’m sure he’s still in his quarters at this hour. Good luck,  _ meleth nin.” _

She closed the door behind him, and he sighed, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath before turning and walking down the hall.

“Good morning, your Highness,” Thorin’s steward greeted him, bowing deeply. 

“Good morning, Alfin. Is Thorin in?”

“He is, sire. Shall I-?”

“I can knock on the door myself, Alfin,” Kili interrupted gently, walking up to Thorin’s door and doing so. “Uncle?”

To his surprise, he heard a yelp from inside, followed by a thump.

“Uncle? Are you alright?”

“I’m-! I’m fine, just a moment!”

Kili and Alfin looked at each other as Thorin rushed around behind the door, blinking at the sound of things being thrown and Thorin grunting. After a moment, he opened the door, a lock of hair hanging in his eyes.

“Good- good morning, Kili.”

“Uh... good morning, Uncle Thorin.” He gestured behind his uncle. “May I come in? I’d like to speak to you about something.”

Thorin frowned, but stepped aside, allowing Kili to come inside. He nodded at Alfin curtly, then closed the door behind him. His uncle walked back over to his desk, shuffling some papers. Kili walked up behind him, trying to peek, but Thorin hid whatever it was from view and turned to glare at him.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to snoop on other people’s business?”

Kili arched an eyebrow.

“Have you met my mother?”

Thorin blinked, then huffed out a tiny, amused laugh.

“Fair point,” he conceded as he swept whatever those papers were into a drawer. He turned, smiling politely. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Kili cleared his throat, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“That’s... Uncle, are you sure there’s- there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

Thorin blinked once more, then frowned, sighing a bit.

“Kili, I told you, I am perfectly fine.”

Kili swallowed, taking a step towards him.

“Thorin, please, I... ever since you woke up, you’ve... you haven’t been the same. You look so- so  _ tired  _ all the time, and you don’t... you don’t laugh, or smile, you barely even  _ talk  _ to anyone some days.”

Guilt flashed in Thorin’s eyes before he looked away.

“It’s... it’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Don’t need to- Thorin, you are my  _ uncle!  _ You’re- you were practically a third parent to Fili and me, of course I’m going to worry about you!”

Thorin flinched, still not looking at him. Kili sighed, walking over to his uncle and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, Uncle, I... I just want to help. We’ve- we’ve all had a tough time of it these past couple of years, you especially, and now you’ve got the whole mountain looking to you. If there’s- if there’s something I can do to help, then I want you to let me.”

After a moment, Thorin finally looked at him, a small smile playing on his lips and something like pride shining in his eyes.

“When did you get so grown up?”

“I’d say around the point where an Orc shot me with a weird arrow,” Kili deadpanned. 

Thorin laughed, shaking his head and reaching over to ruffle Kili’s hair.

“Of course, of course. I must be getting old, then, if my little Kiwi Bird is offering his support.”

Kili flushed, scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“Uncle, come  _ on,  _ I’m almost seventy-nine! I’m too old for that nickname!”

Thorin laughed again.

“I know, I know. But I’m still your uncle, and I’m allowed to be a little sentimental. And I  _ am  _ grateful for your support, but there is nothing for you to worry about. I’ve told you before, it’s not your job to worry about me.” He pressed his forehead to Kili’s gently. “Let me do the worrying.”

“... are you really repeating something you told me when I was thirty-eight and Fili broke his ankle?”

Thorin huffed out a laugh.

“It’s still applicable. I mean it, don’t worry about me. You’ve got a child on the way, after all, and a wedding to plan.”

Kili froze, a flush creeping up his neck.

“I, er... about that...”

“... Kili. You  _ did  _ ask Tauriel to marry you, did you not?”

“Um... well, not in so many words...”

Thorin narrowed his eyes.

“You’ve at least started on your masterwork for her, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been busy!” Kili defended, though he couldn’t help but grin sheepishly.

Thorin rolled his eyes, grabbing Kili by the shoulders and turning him around before pushing him towards the door.

“Right, then, you’re going to get started on that  _ immediately.” _

“Wait, but- Uncle-!”

“No buts. I’m telling you this for your own good- if your mother finds out that you haven’t asked her to marry you yet, she  _ will  _ try to ground you.”

“Wh-! She can’t do that!”

“Yes she can. She grounded  _ me  _ once, and I’m her older brother.” Thorin pushed him out the door. “Use emeralds, they’d look nice with her eyes.”

Before Kili could respond to that, Thorin shut the door behind him. Kili opened his mouth, then closed it, sighing quietly before heading toward the workshop.

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something his uncle was keeping from him, but... well, at least he’d  _ tried. _

He’d just have to try harder, after he’d finished crafting his masterwork for Tauriel and asked her to marry him. 

Then Thorin would  _ have  _ to talk to him.

Right?

 

* * *

 

_ Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from jumping out of the cart when it came to a stop outside the Shire, sighing at the feeling of the familiar dirt under his feet. _

_ “Now, careful, Bilbo!” Gandalf called, getting out of his seat and walking over to him.  Bilbo turned giving him a look. _

_ “Gandalf, we’re less than ten minutes from the Shire. The worst out here is thieving squirrels.” _

_ Gandalf gave him a look in return. _

_ “That may be, but given your condition, it would pay to be careful.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Besides, you are quite far along now. If I remember anything about pregnant Hobbits, it’s that tired feet are a common complaint at this point.” _

_ Bilbo scoffed, stepping away from him. _

_ “Please, you and I both know that I’m not nearly as far along as I should be were this a regular Hobbit pregnancy. I’ll be fine.” _

_ Gandalf arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead tending to his horse as Bilbo stretched his legs.  _

_ A few minutes later, Bilbo found himself with his feet aching, grimacing as he walked back over to the cart.  _

_ “Don’t,” Bilbo warned as Gandalf helped him on. Gandalf’s eyebrow remained arched, and his lips were pursed oddly, but he said nothing, instead simply getting back into his seat and spurring the horse on. _

_ Bilbo sighed, lying back and placing his hands on the swell of his stomach.  _

_ “Almost there, now,” he murmured. “I hope you’ll like it there-!”  _

_ As if in response, Bilbo felt a dull pain in his stomach, as if a tiny foot was striking him from the inside.  _

_ “Oh!” _

_ “Is everything alright, Bilbo?” _

_ Bilbo sat up, twisting around to smile at Gandalf. _

_ “Oh, yes, I’m fine, it’s just- I think the baby just kicked.” _

_ Gandalf’s face lit up, and he chuckled gently. _

_ “Ah, well, that must be a good sign.” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “We’ve just passed the borders of the Shire. I’ll accompany you back to your smial, but I’m afraid that is where I must leave you.” _

_ Bilbo couldn’t help but frown in disappointment at that. _

_ “That’s a shame. I quite like having a wizard around. Seems like they’re good luck.” _

_ Gandalf hummed. _

_ “You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck?” _

_ Bilbo blinked. _

_ “I beg your pardon?” _

_ “Magic rings should not be used lightly, Bilbo.” _

_ Bilbo froze, uncertain if the pang in his abdomen was a pit dropping into his stomach or just the baby kicking again. _

_ “I- ring? What, what ring, I don’t-!” _

_ “Don’t take me for a fool. I know you found one in the goblin tunnels, and I’ve kept my eye on you ever since.” _

_ Bilbo swallowed, laying back down and rubbing his stomach. _

_ “... well... thank goodness... thank goodness for that, then.”  _

_ The ring had become a heavy weight in his pocket over the course of this conversation, and Bilbo bit his lip, his hand going to it. A little voice in his head told him that he should show the wizard, ask him just what it was. _

_ And yet. _

_ And yet, something told him that it was none of Gandalf’s business what he did with the ring, it was his now and his alone. _

_ So he swallowed. _

_ “You... you needn’t worry about that ring, actually. It fell out of my pocket during the battle. I lost it.” _

_ Gandalf hummed. _

_ “You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I’m very fond of you. But you’re only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” _

_ Bilbo huffed and rolled his eyes, but before he could say a word in argument, he heard an odd commotion from up ahead, which turned out to be, of all things, an estate sale in front of Bag End.  _

_ Now, Bilbo would be the first to tell anyone if they asked that he was not very fond of being pregnant, even if he already adored his child so much that he feared his heart might burst. His feet hurt, he’d been horribly ill for the first few months, walking was extraordinarily difficult, he had to relieve himself every thirty minutes, and his chest was so tender now that he couldn’t bind it, which was a nightmare in and of itself.  _

_ Nevermind the innate sense of  _ wrongness _ that came with being so far along- he’d stopped being able to look at himself in the mirror around Rivendell, and he didn’t expect he’d be able to again until well after the baby was born. _

_ All in all, he hadn’t enjoyed the experience at all, and would  _ definitely  _ not be repeating it. _

_ However, he did have to say, he rather enjoyed how accommodating the other Hobbits had become at the sight of his condition, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’ sneer aside. He’d never seen Tosser Grub look so terrified in all his life as he read the contract, despite it being largely unnecessary to get most of the others to return his furniture.  _

_ “Er, well, it certainly seems to be in order,” he murmured, glancing up at Bilbo nervously. Bilbo narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, and he quickly turned back to the contract. “Y-Yes, of course, there’s absolutely no doubt about it! My sincerest apologies for- for the confusion, Master Baggins.” _

_ Bilbo rolled his eyes and huffed. _

_ “So long as my property-  _ all _ of it- is back in my home,  _ where it belongs, _ by the end of the day, I’ll consider the matter closed.” _

_ That seemed to be enough to trigger the others to work faster, and soon enough they were leaving Bag End empty-handed, a few grumbling as they made their way home.  _

_ Although he was certain he’d discover a few pieces of his mother’s silver missing later, but he’d attend to that after he got off his feet for a time. _

_ “Well then. Good afternoon to you, Mr. Grub.” _

_ “Ah, just a moment, Master Baggins. Just who is this person you pledged your services to? This... Thorin Oakenshield?” _

_ Bilbo froze, his heart leaping up into his throat. He swallowed thickly, putting a hand on his stomach. _

_ “He... he was...” _

_ Everything. Thorin had been everything to him. Everything he’d ever wanted, and he knew that if he could, he’d give anything, everything to just go back and rewrite their story, their ending. _

_ He took a shaky breath. _

_ “He used to be mine.” _

_ With that, he walked back through his front door. Back to the home he’d longed for, the comfort and the books and the armchair. _

_ Back to the Hobbit he used to be. _

_ Everything was where he’d left it, of course. The others had at least had the courtesy to remember where each piece belonged, right down to the glory box. _

_ Although he did end up finding his handkerchief on the floor, lying in the middle of it and covered in a thin layer of dust. _

_ Right where he’d left it. _

_ His fireplace, though,  _ that _ was a mess. The basket of pinecones had been spilled, though they were all rotten anyway, and his mother’s portrait was on the floor, thankfully unharmed. With some difficulty, he managed to pick it up, though he found himself staring at it instead of putting it in its place. _

_ “What would you have thought about all this, I wonder...?” _

_ She would have been proud of him for going, he was sure. _

_ But... well, he couldn’t be certain, could he? She was gone. _

_ His mother was gone. _

_ His father was gone. _

_ Thorin was gone. _

_ He was all alone. _

_ Again. _

_ Right where he’d started. _

_ His heart was in his throat again, his eyes burning with unshed tears. His knees shook, and he hugged the portrait to his chest as he sank to his knees. A choked cry escaped his throat, followed by a sob. _

_ “Bilbo? Bilbo, are you- oh.” He heard Gandalf sigh. “Oh, Bilbo...” _

_ A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned into Gandalf’s chest. _

_ “I’m sorry, my dear fellow. I never meant for this to happen.” _

_ Bilbo sniffed, his shoulders shaking. _

_ “I... did it have to be me? When, when you were picking a burglar, did it have to be me?” _

_ Gandalf sighed. _

_ “I’m afraid so, Bilbo. I’m truly sorry.” _

_ Bilbo sobbed into his cloak, his heart somehow managing to break even further. _

 

* * *

 

The trip to Laketown was much smoother the second time around. 

Probably because there was less fog. 

And barrels.

“Here we go,” Dis warned as the gates to Laketown opened. “Be on your guard.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, shifting a sleeping Frodo in his arms.

“Really, now, it’s  _ Laketown.  _ You’ve seen their cache of weapons, and I have honestly never seen anyone less impressed. And I saw my mother’s face the first time Lobelia tried to steal her spoons.”

The Dwarves didn’t back down- he heard Dwalin murmur something to Nori, and he could’ve  _ sworn  _ he heard Dori crack his knuckles. Before he could say anything else, though, he heard the sound of footsteps on the dock.

“Princess Dis, I am glad to see you and your company have arrived safely. I am Bard, Lord of Dale and Master of Laketown.”

Bilbo smiled up at Bard, adjusting a barely-awake Frodo in his arms. Bard smiled back, though he was clearly a bit taken aback by the baby in Bilbo’s arms. He held out his arm to help Bilbo out, only for Bofur to intercept him and help him up with an odd look at Bard.

“Lord Bard, we thank you for your hospitality,” Dis said coolly, bowing to him, as did Vili and Fili. “I hope that the peace between our peoples can continue.”

“... I... do as well...?” Bard replied, seeming as confused as Bilbo felt. He cleared his throat. “I’ll... show you to my home, then.”

Bard had moved into the Master’s manor after the dust settled after the battle, though from his tone it sounded like the people of Laketown had all insisted on him and family living there. 

“I still have Tilda’s cradle... somewhere,” Bard told them as he took off his coat and headed for the stairs. “The baby can use it.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s very kind,” Bilbo replied.

“It’s no trouble. You did try to help us before.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but flinch, clearing his throat and adjusting his son in his arms.

“Er, well... that didn’t exactly, er, work out, though...”

Bard shrugged.

“You did what you thought was right.” He paused, and when Bilbo looked behind his shoulder he saw the Dwarves glaring at Bard. “I’ll... be back in a moment.”

Bilbo nodded at him, then turned to give the others a look.

“Alright, out with it- why are you all being so rude to Bard?”

“We’re not,” Nori replied.

“Yes you are, and I suggest you don’t argue with me on this.” He puffed out his chest. “I didn’t earn the title of ‘perfectly respectable’ for no reason, I’ll have you know.”

The Company looked hesitant for a moment, murmuring amongst themselves before Dis stepped forward.

“We’re worried about you.”

Bilbo blinked, then arched an eyebrow.

“I assure you, Bard is not a danger to any of us, least of all me.”

“Perhaps not yet, but tell me this- have you thought about how you’re going to explain Frodo’s existence to him?”

Bilbo blinked, then felt a pit drop into his stomach.

“O... Oh. I... I hadn’t thought...”

He knew, of course he knew, that not everyone was as understanding as Dwarves, or Elves, or even most Hobbits his age and younger. He’d heard the stories about Men all but expelling their own people for who they loved, who they were. 

He just... well, it had slipped his mind in the meantime to come up with a cover story.

“I...” He swallowed. “I’ll figure something out. He might- might not even ask. Doesn’t seem like he’d pry into other’s business.”

The Dwarves didn’t look so sure, but then Bard’s children came through the door, and Bilbo found himself swarmed by excited young ones.

“What’s his name?” The eldest daughter, Sigrid, asked.

“Frodo.”

“How old is he?” The only boy, Bain, asked before making a face at Frodo.

“His first birthday is in about a month.”

“Is he yours?” The youngest, Tilda, asked.

“He is.”

“And where did he come from?”

Bilbo blinked.

“Uh. What?”

“Tilda, not this again,” Sigrid groaned.

“But Sigrid! No one will tell me!” Tilda argued. “All Da would tell me is that babies come from their parents!”

“And that’s all you need to know,” Bard replied smoothly, picking his daughter up. “At least until you’re older. Apologies, Master Baggins.”

“It’s... it’s alright...” Bilbo managed, his heart pounding in his chest as he smiled with relief. 

The conversation turned to Frodo’s birthday, which turned into Dis telling a story about Thorin’s habit of hiding from parties when he was young, and everyone seemed to forget about the oliphaunt in the room.

At least, until later in the evening, when Bilbo was putting Frodo down for the night.

“So, you had a baby.”

Bilbo flinched as he placed Frodo into the cradle, glancing behind his shoulder at Bard.

“I did.”

Bard hummed.

“Pardon me for prying, but I had thought that you and King Thorin were...”

Bilbo blinked.

“What? What do you-? Oh!” Bilbo blushed, clearing his throat. “Er, well, um... we were. Frodo is...”

Bard blinked, his eyes widening for a moment before softening.

“I see.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I will have to congratulate him next I see him.”

Bilbo blinked in surprise.

“I... you aren’t going to ask how...?”

Bard held up his hands.

“I don’t know much about Hobbits, and quite frankly, I don’t feel it’s my business where he came from, so long as the child is healthy.”

Bilbo paused, then let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“No trouble.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Though, if someone  _ does  _ trouble you over it, please let me know. I’d rather not risk King Thorin’s ire, let alone yours.”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m sure Dis and the others will beat you to it, but thank you.”

Bard nodded.

“Good night, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo replied in kind, turning to the window once Bard was gone.

He swallowed, nerves about what tomorrow would bring returning in full force.

A walk. A walk would clear his head.

 

* * *

 

_ Thorin sprang up in his bed with a gasp, panting and shaking. He blinked, looking around and swallowing. _

_ “Where... where am I? What is this?” _

_ His words echoed around the unknown chamber, but he received no answer. He frowned, turning to get out of bed. _

_ Actually, now that he was a bit more aware, what he was lying on was far too stiff and hard to be a bed. Looking back at it revealed that he was lying on a slab of stone.  _

_ He was also clad only in a pair of trousers. No shirt, boots, or socks. _

_ Thorin furrowed his brow, taking a step forward on the cold ground. He shivered, but pushed through his discomfort and walked to the door, grunting as he pulled it open. _

_ “Hello?” He called. “Is anyone here?” _

_ Still no answer, but he could see light at the end of the hall. He hesitated, then started to head toward it, calling to see if anyone was ahead a few times before turning the corner... _

_ And running right into Oin. _

_ “Ah, good. Apologies for running into you, Oin, but it is good to see-!” _

_ Without a word, Oin grabbed his arm, his grip surprisingly strong as he pulled him through the halls. _

_ “Wha- wait, wait, Oin, what are you-!” _

_ Oin opened a door, and Thorin found himself looking at the rest of the Company, their eyes wide and shocked. _

_ “... er... hello?” _

_ In a flash, the others were on him, his nephews nearly knocking him over in a hug. _

_ “You’re- you’re awake!” Kili sobbed into his shoulder. _

_ “We were so worried!” Fili added, his arms tightening around him. _

_ “About- about what?” Thorin managed, trying to loosen their grip so they wouldn’t end up crushing him. _

_ “You’ve... you’ve been in mountain sleep for the better part of a year, laddie,” Balin told him, eyes shining with tears even as he smiled. “We were starting to think that...” _

_ Thorin felt something in him soften, and he sighed, pushing his nephews away so he could look at their faces. _

_ “I am sorry that I frightened you all. I am glad, though, to see you all whole and... hale...” He frowned, looking around. _

_ “Uncle? What’s the matter?” _

_ “I... where is Bilbo?” His stomach turned, his grip on Kili’s shoulder tightening. “Is... is he...” _

_ The others looked at each other, clearly hesitating. _

_ “Thorin, it’s... Bilbo went home,” Dwalin told him, obviously trying to be gentle. “He left after the battle, it’s... it’s been nearly a year.” _

_ His heart leapt into his throat. _

_ “I... what?” _

_ “Bilbo went back to the Shire,” Fili told him. “I’m... I’m really sorry, Uncle.” _

_ Thorin took a shaky breath, his eyes burning. _

_ “He... he’s...” _

_ Bilbo was gone.  _

_ He’d left. _

_ He didn’t... he didn’t love Thorin anymore. _

_ “Uncle? Uncle, what’s-?” _

_ Thorin’s knees went out from under him, and he heard the others shout as he slipped into darkness. _

 

* * *

 

This was it. 

Thorin’s necessities were packed, his hair was free of Royal beads and braids to denote his soon-to-be-former status, and the letter of abdication was in its envelope on his desk amongst the others, which had been cleared of everything but the letters so they couldn’t be missed, and he’d said his goodbyes.

Now all he needed to do was push the bookcase back, descend the stairs out of the mountain, and make a break for it to the river, where he’d hop on the tiny boat he’d constructed and sail away. 

All he had to do was take that first step. 

Which, as it turned out, was a task easier thought than done. 

He wanted to leave, he did. He  _ needed  _ to leave, else he’d just get worse and worse until he became little more than a shell of himself, if he wasn’t well on the way to that already. 

But... this was his homeland. This was the place he was born, where he grew up, the place he’d spent almost an entire lifetime yearning for, fought for, nearly  _ died  _ for...

Thorin clenched his jaw, glancing over his shoulder at his bed, neatly made.

He didn’t have to do this. He could just unpack, hide the letters, and go to sleep. No one would ever know how he almost deserted them. 

He would never have to tell them why.

But then...

Then he would never see Bilbo again. 

Not only that, he would be resigning himself to a life of misery, spent flinching at the sight of gold sparkling by torchlight and watching his crown gather dust in its case. 

He took a breath.

Erebor was, and would always be, his homeland.

But it wasn’t his home, not anymore. His home was not a place, but a person, and even if that person would not see him again, he couldn’t stay here. 

If he did, then eventually, it would suck the life right out of him.

And so, he took the first step. Then another, and another, and then he was moving the bookcase, then he was slipping behind the bookcase and closing it, then more steps with his hands trailing against the walls to guide him, and then-

Then he was out of the mountain.

He took a shaky breath, looked up at the full moon in the sky. 

Thorin turned back to the mountain for a moment, pressing his palm against the side, then pressing his forehead to the cold stone. 

_ “May Mahal bless this place until Arda is remade,”  _ he prayed, the Khuzdul rougher than it should have been. He sniffed, wiping at his suddenly-damp eyes before finally-  _ finally-  _ turning away.

No turning back now. His choice was made, his heart and mind were set, and he would see this journey through to its end, wherever that may be.

The farther he got from the mountain, the lighter his heart became. A smile spread over his lips, and he started to run, a laugh bursting out of his throat.

He was free.

He was  _ free.  _ Free, free to do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wished,  _ be  _ whoever he pleased.

Thorin arrived at the boat, tugging it out of hiding and pushing it into the water before hopping on it and taking his pack off. He unspooled the sail, and a sudden breeze blew it onward, right into the current of the river.

He didn’t even think to look back at the mountain until the river lead him into the Long Lake. His heart ached, just for a second, for all that he left behind, but it didn’t matter.

It was too late to turn back, even if he’d wanted to. 

The wind was behind him, and he trusted the breeze to carry him across the lake and beyond, over mountains and rivers and valleys until he was home.

Until he could see Bilbo’s face once more.

 

* * *

 

It was a nice night for a walk, Bilbo had to admit.

Dale was still little more than a shanty town thus far- being abandoned for centuries and then attacked by orcs would do that to a place- but thanks to Dwarven gold and assistance, Laketown had transformed into a rather lovely little town, almost like the Shire.

If the Shire was a fifth its size and on the water, that is.

Of course, Hobbits were not particularly adept at swimming, so they’d never settle in a place like this. 

Still, if you liked water, he supposed this was a rather nice place to settle down. He was certain Dale would be nicer, once it was finally rebuilt, but for now, the people had enough to eat and a roof over their heads.

Now if only there was a single dry place to step outside of their homes, it would be perfect. Bilbo thanked Yavanna that she had made Hobbits with such clingy feet, or he might had slipped into the lake a hundred times already!

Oh, but the view from the edge of town was lovely. It had been so foggy the last time he’d seen it, and he’d been slightly hungover and barely awake (and also, apparently, conceiving a child, but he hadn’t known that part).

It was also much quieter, thankfully. Gave him some time to collect his thoughts.

Though really, most of his thoughts were about Thorin. 

He was going to see Thorin tomorrow. 

Thorin, who was not dead, but alive and well.

Thorin, who was completely unaware of the fact that he had a child he would be meeting tomorrow, and if he didn’t hate Bilbo already he was  _ certainly  _ going to hate him now.

Bilbo swallowed, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“What a fine mess this all is...” he muttered, glancing up at the window where Frodo’s little makeshift nursery was. “And you’re right in the middle of it once more, aren’t you, Bilbo Baggins?”

And now he was talking to himself. Wonderful.

Oh, what was he doing, having all these doubts? In just a day, he’d be at Thorin’s doorstep, it was far too late to turn back! If there’d been any time to turn back, it might have been Rivendell, or Beorn’s house, or even  _ Mirkwood,  _ but now that there were here, just a short ways from the Lonely Mountain?

He couldn’t run now, not even if he hadn’t left his ring on the mantle like a fool.

He chuckled softly. A Fool of a Took, he was. Just like his mother, as Gandalf would say.

What would  _ she  _ say, though?

Probably that he was being silly worrying so much, and that he should just steal a boat and paddle his way across the damn lake tonight, she’d take care of her darling grandson while he-!

Well, then he’d have to interject before she said something inappropriate about Thorin. 

Probably about his ass. 

He sighed, shaking his head. Now he was imagining silly, impossible scenarios thanks to all the stress. He should just go back inside and-!

There was a sudden splash in the distance, and Bilbo instinctively dove behind the nearest lamp post, which hid him well all things considered. He peered behind it, watching with wide eyes as a Dwarven figure in a little sail boat rowed into the canal, bumping up against the walkway when it reached the end. The Dwarf, whose face Bilbo could not make out in the darkness, stepped off the boat and onto the pier, tying it to a post before grabbing his pack and slipping it on. He took one last look at the boat before turning away, walking with a certain confidence that he’d only ever seen in one other Dwarrow, and Bilbo’s heart lurched and ached at the sight-!

Right up until the Dwarf slipped and fell right on his face.

“Oh!” Without a thought to his own safety, Bilbo scampered out from behind the lamp post, running over to the Dwarf and kneeling down. “Oh, goodness, are you alright? These floors are rather slippery, they should really-!”

The Dwarf looked up, eyes wide and startled, and Bilbo’s heart leapt into his throat.

Long, dark hair streaked with more silver than he remembered was pulled into a loose bun, free of braids and beads. His beard was similar, longer and tied off with a simple blue tie. There were more wrinkles, more scars, bags under his eyes, paler, thinner.

But oh, his  _ eyes.  _ They were just as bright and captivating and  _ blue  _ as before, and he’d know them anywhere, because a pair just like them belonged to his son.

“... Thorin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a whole lot of comments on the last chapter worrying that I was going to have Thorin and Bilbo just barely miss each other, and tbh I wasn't sure whether to cackle with evil glee because I kept ya guessing or worry that I did a real bad job with the set up. Really hoping it was the former.
> 
> Though, in the interest of full disclosure, the original draft for this story DID have Thorin getting out of Erebor before Bilbo got there and Bilbo having to go after him, but I felt that version just added unnecessary filler to the whole thing.
> 
> Anyway, yay, they're finally in the same place! I... wish I had the energy to be more excited, but my grandfather is currently undergoing surgery and I am worried lmao
> 
> A few notes: I don't know if they are actual Kiwi birds in Middle Earth, but the movies were filmed in New Zealand and I thought it was cute.
> 
> Also, I did, in fact, put a streetlamp in Middle Earth, because I still find that argument between Tolkien and Lewis to be fucking hilarious. As a caveat, though, I imagine it's one of those old ones that you have to light manually, with like a match or something.
> 
> That's it for this chapter! The next update will be on the 17th, wherein some very necessary conversations will finally happen. Thank you for your support so far!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	7. Chapter 6: Ever So Slightly, Daily and Nightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: references to a trans man being pregnant, struggles with mental health.

Thorin wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready at all, not yet, not for  _ this. _

He thought he would still have  _ months  _ to think about what he was going to say, to expand upon words he’d written in unfinished letters he’d stuffed in his desk, never to be looked upon again. 

He wasn’t ready.

And yet, here Bilbo was, in  _ Laketown  _ of all places, staring at him with those beautiful deep blue eyes of his, looking for all the world as though he’d just seen a ghost.

_ I’m sorry. I missed you. I love you, I love you so much I can’t stand it, all the gold in the world would not compare to the splendor of your laughter, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’m still so,  _ so  _ sorry. _

If he had said any of those things, it would have been true.

However, he did not say any of those things. What he said instead was this.

“Your hair is longer.”

He cringed.

_ Oh, smooth, he’ll  _ definitely  _ love you again now. _

Bilbo, for his part, didn’t respond to that, instead just staring at him, mouth hanging open. Thorin cleared his throat, slowly moving to sit up. 

“I mean, ah... Bilbo. Why, why are you... here? Shouldn’t-? I thought you went back to the... the Shire...”

Thorin trailed off, his heart sinking when he realized that tears had formed in Bilbo’s eyes, rolling down his face in fat, dewey drops.

Bilbo was crying. Again.

Because of him. It had to be because of him, what else could it be?

What had he been thinking? Even if Bilbo  _ didn’t,  _ by some miracle, hate him, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t... that he would just be forgiven for what he did. 

Even if Bilbo didn’t hate him, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t  _ afraid  _ of him.

He swallowed, looking away and biting back tears of his own as he got to his feet. He couldn’t look at him- he had been the cause of far too much pain in Bilbo’s life already.

“I- I apologize, I... I’ll leave, now. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Well. So that plan was up in smoke.

It was fine. Better to know now that he wasn’t forgiven, he could just- just avoid the Shire altogether. Head to the Gulf of Lune, perhaps- he could live with the Dwarrows who had settled along the beach and started worshipping some nature goddess-!

Thorin’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when a tearful Hobbit tackled him in a hug, knocking him onto his back, though thankfully his pack softened the landing. He was stunned for a moment, blinking and staring up at the starry sky before looking down at Bilbo, who was sobbing into his chest.

“B... Bilbo?”

“You’re- you’re alive,” he heard Bilbo murmur between sobs, almost gasping out the words. “You’re alive, I thought- I thought I’d never... you’re  _ alive.” _

Thorin blinked once more, his confusion only worsening.

“Alive? Of- of course I’m  _ alive,  _ why wouldn’t I be?”

Bilbo looked up at him, eyes still full of tears, his face and ears tinged red. 

“I... the, the battle, you- you fell, you were so hurt and you were- the others, they told me you were returned to, to the earth, and I thought... I thought that meant you’d been buried...”

Thorin’s heart twinged, and he reached towards him, wiping tears from his Hobbit’s face. 

“Bilbo... If I had died, they would have told you directly. I certainly wouldn’t have been buried- as a king, I would have been entombed.”

“Well, I didn’t know that!” Bilbo snapped, ears twitching in irritation. “Hob-! Hobbits don’t  _ have  _ kings, and no one’s ever-! We bury all our dead, regardless of status, and-!”

He whimpered, and Thorin hushed him, shifting around until he could sit up and pull Bilbo into his lap. 

“I’m sorry, Bilbo, I didn’t... I had no idea you didn’t know that I was still alive. I thought...” He swallowed, looking away. “I thought that you had left because I... because you couldn’t forgive me.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, then softened along with the rest of his face as he took Thorin’s hand and pulled it to his chest.

“Thorin, of  _ course  _ I forgive you- I forgave you long ago.” He smiled weakly. “And I have missed you so much, dearest, that even if I hadn’t forgiven you by Ravenhill, I would certainly have forgiven you by now.”

Thorin felt a great weight on his heart disappear at that, helped along by the return of “dearest,” though another part of Bilbo’s statement left him confused.

“What does Ravenhill have to do with anything?”

Bilbo blinked, arching an eyebrow.

“You... you don’t remember?”

Thorin blushed, shrugging sheepishly.

“My memory of the battle is a bit fuzzy after the pale orc went down. You... you really were there, though? I had thought... I had thought I must have imagined you in my guilt.”

Bilbo’s gaze softened again, and he sighed, bringing Thorin’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Thorin. You weren’t in your right mind when all that happened.”

“‘All that?’ Bilbo, I tried to-! I tried to  _ hurt  _ you, how can you just-?”

“Because I know you,” Bilbo interrupted, voice gentle and soft, “and I know that you would never have put your hands on me like that had you been well. I love you, Thorin Oakenshield, and I trust you with my life.”

Thorin’s heart skipped a beat, a flush spreading over his cheeks and up to his ears.

“I... you... you love me? You still...?”

Bilbo laughed, sounding a bit breathless.

_ “Yes,  _ you ridiculous Dwarf, I still love you. Of course I do, I never... Thorin, I never stopped loving you, not even when I thought you dead. I don’t think I ever could.” He bit his lip, suddenly looking a bit nervous. “Do... do you still-?”

“Yes,” Thorin interrupted, perhaps a bit too quickly. He blushed as Bilbo laughed, reaching up and brushing some of Bilbo’s curls back. “I love you. I love you so much. Not a day has gone by that you have not been on my mind, all the gold in the world could not compare to-!”

“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, grinning from ear to ear as he cradled Thorin’s face, “that’s very, that’s all very sweet, and I’d be happy to let you tell me it all later, but if you’re amenable to it, I’d quite like a kiss.”

Thorin’s heart stuttered, his flush deepening.

“I... you’re sure...?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I swear, if you don’t kiss me right now, then I really will haul you up by your hair this time-!”

Thorin quickly leaned up, pulling his Hobbit into a kiss. His lips were still so soft after all this time, and the way he sighed against him made him want to melt. One of his hands started drifting down Bilbo’s back, earning a little gasp and a giggle from the Hobbit, and oh, Thorin hadn’t felt this at home in  _ months-! _

And then the door to the manor opened.

“Hey, Bilbo, you out here? It’s late, no time to be- Thorin?”

The two of them sprang apart, faces bright red as they looked up at Fili in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Y’know, I don’t think Bard will much care if we’re royalty, or that you haven’t seen each other in more than a year, he’s gonna be mad if you two shag in the middle of the street.”

“Fili!” Bilbo chastised as Thorin let out an embarrassed whimper, burrowing his face into his lover’s shoulder. 

“What? It’s not like it’s a secret that you two were-! Wait. Uncle, why are you even here?”

Thorin flinched, glancing away.

“Uh... well...”

“Did someone tell you about the baby?”

Thorin blinked as Bilbo went utterly still in his arms.

“Fili!”

“I swear, Bilbo, it wasn’t me! Er... unless he didn’t know, I guess then it  _ was  _ me-!”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Thorin interrupted, eyebrow arched. “How do  _ you _ know about the baby?”

This time, both Bilbo and Fili blinked at him.

“What?”

“Kili and Tauriel’s baby?” Thorin said slowly. “I don’t know of any other babies, although that one hasn’t even been born yet. I suppose Kili could have written to tell you-!”

“Wait, wait, hold on, Kili and Tauriel’s  _ what?”  _ Bilbo exclaimed, looking entirely too shocked to be having him on.

“I’m going to be an uncle?” Fili all but whispered, looking caught between joy and absolute bewilderment.

“Well, yes.” He arched his eyebrow even higher. “If you did not know about their baby, then what baby were you talking about?”

Bilbo flinched, shame flooding his face as he turned away.

“... Thorin, I think you should come inside.”

Thorin furrowed his brow.

“Is something the matter?”

Bilbo swallowed, wriggling out of Thorin’s lap and standing up.

“Thorin, there’s something I need to tell you, and I don’t want to do it when we’re out on- on a damp walkway.” He held his hand out for Thorin. “Please?”

Thorin’s confusion didn’t abate, but he took his hand, allowing his Hobbit to help him up.

“Alright, but I don’t see how-!”

“Hey, wait, Uncle, why  _ are  _ you out here then? Why do you have a pack? And where are your braids?”

Thorin flinched, clearing his throat and turning his gaze to his shoes.

“I... um. I think that we should go inside.”

 

* * *

 

Even if his stomach was in knots at the idea of telling Thorin the truth, Bilbo had to admit that holding Thorin’s hand again was lovely. 

Almost lovely enough to distract him from the nerves.

Almost. Luckily for him, there was a new issue to address when they went inside.

“Fili, what’s going on? Did you find Bil-? You!” 

Thorin flinched, looking up at his sister with a sheepish grin as she descended the stairs.

“Hello, Dis. You’re looking well-!”

“Don’t you dare try meaningless platitudes with me!” Dis shouted as she stomped over to him. “What were you  _ thinking!  _ You nearly started- no,  _ started  _ a war, almost got my children and  _ yourself  _ killed, over a thrice-damned  _ rock!” _

“I know,” Thorin responded.

“And don’t you dare try to defend your-!” Dis blinked, furrowing her brow. “Wait, what?”

“You’re right. I fell to the same madness as our grandfather did, and I acted no better than he did at the fall of Erebor. I don’t have any excuses. I can only tell you how sorry I am, and ask for your forgiveness.”

Dis blinked again, then started to glare at him, her eyes welling up.

“You... that’s... how- that’s not fair, you know.”

This time, Thorin blinked.

“I... don’t know? What are you saying?”

Dis sniffed, then dove forward, wrapping her arms around her brother’s neck.

“How- how am I supposed to yell at you when you’re so- so contrite?”

Thorin’s eyes softened, and Bilbo could’ve sworn something in his eyes shined as he hugged his sister back.

“I’m- I’m sorry... I’m so, so sorry...”

“I know. Don’t- don’t  _ ever  _ do something like that again, do you hear me?”

Thorin laughed, glancing at Bilbo with a small smile.

“I’ll endeavor not to.” 

Dis snorted, wiping at her eyes as she pulled away.

“You better. Now, do... do you want to explain what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?”

Thorin flinched, glancing around the room, and when Bilbo looked he saw that the rest of the Company, Vili, Bard, his children- really everyone over the age of one year old was in the room.

“Er... um... well, I...” Thorin swallowed, taking a step back. “The truth is, I... I didn’t have any idea that Bilbo was here. I... I was leaving.”

“... Leaving for what?” Fili asked. “I thought you didn’t want to go on the delegation to Mirkwood. And it wasn’t until next month.”

Thorin looked like he wanted to disappear.

“I... I wasn’t taking a trip, I...” Thorin took a deep breath. “I’m abdicating.”

The room fell utterly silent. Bilbo’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. 

“... you  _ what?”  _ Dis snapped after a moment.

“I’m not ready to be king!” Fili whimpered.

“I know you’re not, Fili, but- but Balin and your mother-!”

“Are not substitutes for experience!” Dis interrupted, fury burning in her eyes. “How  _ could  _ you?! After everything that happened, how can you just- just  _ give up?!” _

“I know, I know, but I- I just...”

“You just  _ what?  _ You just realized that being king in more than just name is harder than you thought?”

“I’m not a  _ fool,  _ Dis, I knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but I can’t-! I have tried my  _ hardest,  _ but I cannot do this anymore!”

“And so you’re just going to force your nephew to take on a role he’s not ready for? How dare you be so selfish-!”

“Would you rather I lost my mind?!” Thorin bellowed, the sound reverberating off the walls. Bilbo’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes going wide. Silence fell over the house for a moment, a few of them exchanging worried looks.

Then Thorin sighed, covering his face with his hand.

“That’s... I know what that sounds like, but it’s not... it’s not gold-sickness.”

“Uncle...” Fili started, voice soft and gentle.

“No, it’s not- I know it’s not that, I remember what that feels like. This is...” Thorin sat down, face angled downward. “I feel... being in the mountain- being around  _ gold  _ just reminds me... reminds me what I  _ did.  _ I... I have nightmares. I don’t  _ sleep  _ half the time because of that. Every second I’m in there I feel like I’m a second away from slipping back into madness, and the longer I try to keep it together the worse it gets. The worse  _ I  _ get.”

Bilbo swallowed, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Thorin looked up, and the guilt and shame in his eyes nearly broke his heart.

“I know it’s... it’s selfish to, to just... to leave, without saying goodbye or explaining myself or... but I can’t... I’m so  _ tired  _ of feeling this way, and if I keep going like this, if I don’t get away from here, it is going to kill me.”

That finally broke Bilbo, and he was at Thorin’s side in an instant, taking his hand and cradling his cheek. Thorin looked at him with wide eyes, seemingly shocked.

“Oh, Thorin...” Bilbo murmured, brushing a lock of hair back. 

“Just how long have you been dealing with this?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin swallowed, moving away from Bilbo’s touch.

“Since... Since I emerged from mountain sleep.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Fili prompted gently. 

“How could I?” Thorin replied quietly. “After everything that happened- all the suffering, all the fighting and... and you were all so happy to be back in the mountain, how could I admit that... that I wasn’t?”

Dis sighed, walking up to her brother and kneeling to his eye level.

“Thorin. I can’t condone the way you went about this, and that is something we are going to have to discuss.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But I cannot condemn you for wanting to escape your suffering, either. So, in the morning, when we return to the mountain, we will... figure something out.”

Thorin flinched.

“I... don’t suppose you could get Balin and the council to come here?”

“Thorin.”

“I know, I know.” Thorin smiled up at her. “Thank you, sister.”

Dis smiled, then stood, clearing her throat.

“Now, it’s- it’s very late. We should all get to bed.” She gave Bilbo a pointed look, then turned to usher the rest of them back to their rooms. A moment later, Bilbo and Thorin were alone, silence hanging in the air like a knife.

Bilbo bit his lip, trying to think of how to delicately explain that he’d been with child when he left the mountain, and Thorin had been a father for nearly a year now without knowing it.

He wasn’t sure that there  _ was  _ a delicate way to put it.

So, he opened his mouth.

“Thorin-!”

“You don’t have to say it, I understand.”

Bilbo blinked, arching an eyebrow.

“I... pardon?”

Thorin swallowed, scooting away from Bilbo.

“You didn’t... you didn’t come all this way to be with... with someone barely holding onto his sanity. I understand if... if you want to return home-!”

“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, scooting closer to his lover and taking his hand again. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere without you. Not again.”

Thorin turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“You... but, but I’m... Bilbo, I am  _ not  _ well.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t... I don’t know if- if I’m  _ ever _ going to get better.” Thorin’s eyes were damp. “I have tried- I  _ am  _ trying to get better, but it’s- there are days where I barely get out of bed, where I don’t speak or-!”

“Thorin, do you remember when you found about, er...” Bilbo cleared his throat, gesturing downward pointedly. “This?”

Thorin paused, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, yes. Again, I’m very sorry that I walked in on you undressing to bathe.”

Bilbo laughed, squeezing his hand.

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t think to lock the door to Beorn’s bathroom. And for throwing my trousers at you. But that wasn’t what I meant. I meant that when you learned something that I have trouble talking about, that affects the way people see me, it didn’t change the way you felt about me.” He leaned in, kissing Thorin softly. “And this? This doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, Thorin Oakenshield. Nothing will change that.”

“Bilbo...” Thorin swallowed. “I can’t... I can’t promise that it will be easy. That I won’t... won’t struggle, or-!”

“I know, dearest.” He kissed him once more. “And I will be there, no matter how hard it gets, because not having you in my life at all will always be harder.”

Tears slipped out of Thorin’s eyes, and he finally smiled, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“I love you too.” His hands moved to Bilbo’s hips, and he yelped as Thorin pulled him into his lap. “I love you so much,  _ khebabmudtu, lansel, atamanel...” _

Bilbo’s ears burned, and he opened his mouth to interrupt his silly, sappy Dwarrow, but then Thorin pressed his lips to his neck and all he could do was whimper.

_ “Menu tessu,  _ Bilbo,  _ amralime.”  _

Bilbo whimpered, melting against his lover with a tiny sigh.

“Oh, Thorin, I love you too...” He blinked, then swallowed, pressing on his shoulders to make him stop. “I, wait, darling, I... I need to tell you something.”

Thorin looked up at him, clearly puzzled.

“Is- is everything alright? I just- perhaps I shouldn’t have just assumed you would like to...” Thorin shifted awkwardly. “If you aren’t interested-!”

“What? Oh!” Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Thorin, that’s not- perhaps later, if...”

Bilbo bit his lip, and Thorin arched an eyebrow.

“Bilbo?”

He swallowed.

“Um. I.” He took a breath. “When... when I, I left the mountain after the battle, I... I wasn’t alone.”

Thorin blinked, then narrowed his eyes.

“I... am aware. The wizard accompanied you home, did he not?”

“What? Oh, er, well, yes he did, but that’s not... I suppose it’s not exactly that I wasn’t  _ alone,  _ it’s that I... er. I took... something with me.”

Thorin blinked.

“I am aware of that as well? The mithril and the treasure were-!”

Bilbo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, Thorin, not the mithril, or the treasure, I- alright, I’m just, just going to say it.” He took a deep breath. “Thorin, I was pre-!”

As if on cue, a cry came from upstairs. Bilbo froze, his heart stopping for a moment.

“... what... what is that?” Thorin asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“Er. Um.” Bilbo swallowed, then got out of Thorin’s lap. “I’ll- I’ll be right back!”

He turned and scrambled up the stairs, ignoring Thorin calling his name.

“Frodo, Frodo, what’s the matter?” He whispered as he rushed over to his son’s cradle, pulling him into his arms. “What’s the matter, sweetling? Do you need a change?”

He sniffed.

“No, that’s not it. Are you hungry-?”

Frodo whimpered, latching onto him and gripping the back of his shirt. Bilbo blinked, then smiled softly, rubbing his back.

“Oh, were you just lonely? Is that it?”

Frodo burrowed into his shoulder, sighing a little. Bilbo hummed, turning and pressing a kiss into his curls.

“Poor thing... hm, guess what, Frodo? Your adad is here.”

Frodo yawned, smacking his lips a little.

“Yes, he’s right downstairs.” Bilbo paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I... I suppose I ought to- to bring you to him, shouldn’t I? Haven’t exactly had luck spitting it out.”

Frodo wiggled against him a bit, and Bilbo adjusted him so that he was looking over his shoulder. 

“Alright, well, here goes-!”

He heard a gasp, followed by a rather loud  _ thump,  _ making him startle before he turned around, only to find that Thorin had apparently fainted in the middle of the hallway.

“Oh. Um. Well. I guess... I guess he knows, then.”

Frodo giggled.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in around seventy years, Thorin woke to the sound of a baby cooing.

He blinked once, twice, three times, then sat up, wincing at the slight throb of his head. He didn’t quite recall how’d he’d ended up in a bed, and it was still too dark too see anything-!

A soft, familiar snore caught his attention, and when he turned he saw Bilbo, curled up in a chair near the window and fast asleep. His heart twinged with affection at the sight, although he couldn’t help but be confused- why would Bilbo want to sleep in a chair rather than in a bed with him? He hadn’t objected to renewing their courtship once Thorin admitted just how poorly he’d been doing since emerging from mountain sleep, so why...

_ I am a father. _

He blinked again. 

He was a father.

He had a son.

His heart soared at the thought, though it sank a bit when he realized that was probably why Bilbo had decided to sleep in the chair rather than the bed- he might have thought Thorin would be upset at him for not telling him.

Which, to be fair, he might have been, had Bilbo had any idea that he hadn’t passed into the halls of his ancestors on that snow-covered hill. As it stood, he was slightly more upset with the Company for assuming that Bilbo knew what mountain sleep was, especially given that Bilbo had tried to explain what “Yule” was to them three times before giving up.

Admittedly, Thorin wasn’t sure he totally understood “Yule” either, but that wasn’t the point. It was that he wasn’t angry, not even a little, and for a moment he thought about going to wake him up so they could talk, but... well, one, Bilbo was not a morning person in the  _ slightest,  _ until he had something to eat he was barely even responsive, and two...

Two- he really,  _ really  _ wanted to meet his son.

He swallowed, then got out of bed as quietly as he could, walking barefoot on the cool wooden floor to the room across the hall. The baby- Frodo, Bilbo had called him Frodo- was kicking around in his cradle, babbling to a plush brown bear. 

Thorin’s heart felt like it might burst. The floor creaked slightly under his feet, and Frodo turned to glance at him curiously.

Thorin cleared his throat, suddenly feeling utterly self-conscious for some reason. 

“Um. Hi. Hello.”

Frodo made a noise, kicking his little feet. Thorin melted, smiling at him as he walked over to his cradle.

“Hello, little one. I’m... I’m your father.” He paused. “Well. Your  _ other  _ father.”

Frodo blinked, then giggled, reaching up for him and wiggling. Thorin laughed, reaching in and picking him up. 

“Aren’t you charming,” he murmured, brushing the curls away from the little boy’s face. Frodo gurgled, patting and tugging on Thorin’s beard and making him laugh. “Oh, I see, you just wanted to pull on my beard, didn’t you? I see how it is.”

Frodo giggled again, then suddenly made a face, grunting as a rather unpleasant scent filled the air. Thorin grimaced.

“Well, it seems you’ve definitely inherited more from me than your eye and hair color.” He walked over to the bag near a small table, pulling out a clean diaper and things to clean him with. Frodo wiggled a little, but didn’t fight him as he changed him, instead sticking as much of his tiny fist in his mouth as he could and babbling around it. 

“There we go, all done,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss into Frodo’s curls before picking him up, carrying him over to the washroom so he could clean off his hands. Unlike the two little monsters he called his nephews, his own child was quite calm, instead leaning his head on Thorin’s shoulder and rubbing his beard. 

Then Frodo’s stomach rumbled, followed by a tiny whimper from the baby.

“Oh, no, noooo,” Thorin hushed, “don’t cry,  _ gimlith,  _ don’t cry, we’ll get you something to eat...”

Luckily, he’d seen a full bottle of milk below the diapers, and once he managed to get it to Frodo’s mouth, his son immediately calmed down, his eyes drooping as he suckled. Thorin chuckled, rocking him back and forth.

“You’re definitely much more easy-going than Fili and Kili,” he murmured. He grinned as Frodo drained half the bottle. “Ah, I see something you got from your other father- your appetite.”

Frodo grunted, his tiny hands pushing the bottle away. Thorin hummed, putting it down on the table near the door and moving to burp the boy. He flinched in surprise at the strong smell, laughing a little.

“You’ve definitely got Dwarven blood in you, my son.”

Frodo cooed, then yawned, snuggling into Thorin’s chest and sighing. Thorin’s heart leapt, and he grinned from ear to ear, leaning down and kissing Frodo’s forehead. He hummed, rocking the baby gently as he started softly singing the lullaby his own mother had sung to him and his siblings, well over a century ago now. Frodo drifted off after a moment, and Thorin smiled, tiptoeing over to the cradle and placing him in it.

“I always thought you looked happiest with a baby in your arms.”

Thorin smiled at his sister as she walked up to him.

“I never thought I’d have one of my one.” He grinned at her. “I have a child, Dis.”

“You do,” Dis replied. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

Frodo sighed in his sleep, and Thorin beamed at him, reaching down and gently ruffling his hair. Dis snorted.

“You’re already wrapped around his little finger, aren’t you.”

“Irrevocably,” Thorin confirmed. “I love him. If I could, I’d hang the moon for it to shine on him sleeping.”

Dis smiled up at him.

“And what of his other father?”

Thorin blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“I love Bilbo too, of course.”

“And you’re not angry with him in any way over this?”

He blinked again.

“N... No? Up until a few months ago, he believed me to be dead and gone. It was unfortunate, but it was nothing more than a huge misunderstanding.”

Dis hummed, smiling oddly as she turned to the doorway.

“Do you hear that, Bilbo? He’s not the least bit upset with you.”

A surprised squawk came from the hall, followed by a rather flustered Bilbo appearing in the doorway. He cleared his throat, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dis murmured, winking at Thorin conspicuously before leaving the room. Thorin smiled, walking over to his lover and pressing a kiss into his curls.

“Good morning,  _ azyungel.” _

The tips of Bilbo’s ears turned red, matching the rest of his delightfully flushed face.

“I... morning... you’re- you’re really not upset? About... about Frodo?”

Thorin chuckled, cupping Bilbo’s cheeks.

“Furious,” he teased, leaning in and kissing Bilbo gently. “I love you.”

The flush spread, and Thorin couldn’t help but kiss his cheek.

“You... but... you, you don’t think that I-?”

“I think that you were uninformed of a practice that I’d think even Fili and Kili would have little knowledge of.” He brushed back some of Bilbo’s curls. “If anyone is to blame, it is me for not writing to you. If I had, this could have been cleared up months ago. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Bilbo’s eyes softened, and he leaned up to kiss Thorin.

“Oh, dearest, I’m not upset either. You haven’t exactly had an easy time of things lately either, after all. And, well, there wasn’t exactly anything keeping  _ me  _ from writing to check on how Fili was doing as king.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m sure  _ that  _ would have gotten me a quick correction.”

Thorin chuckled, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“What a pair we make.”

Bilbo laughed, kissing him again.

“We do. I love you too, by the way.”

Thorin grinned, pulling his lover into his arms.

Then he remembered a few pressing questions, and he frowned, clearing his throat.

“I... I do think we should talk, though,” he murmured as Bilbo drew back. “I... how did, um...?”

Bilbo blinked, then arched an eyebrow.

“Thorin, you’re nearly two centuries old, and if memory serves, you were...  _ quite  _ enthusiastic in your participation.”

Thorin flushed up to the roots of his hair, giving him a look.

“I know  _ how  _ it happened, I just... when? We were always, er...” Somehow, he managed to blush even more. “Well,  _ careful.” _

Bilbo’s own cheeks colored, ducking his head and brushing his curls back.

“I, well, we... we were as careful as we could be, I suppose, except... except for the last time. Do you, um- do you remember how the night before we set out for the mountain? We both drank- probably a bit more than we should have...”

Thorin furrowed his brow.

“I remember. We drank with the others, went up to the room that the old Master gave me, and then we went to bed together and...” He paused, blinking, then flushed all the way down to his toes. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh,” Bilbo managed, looking as red as Thorin felt. Thorin groaned, leaning over and resting his forehead on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I am  _ so  _ sorry.”

Bilbo snorted, patting his back.

“Now, now, it wasn’t like I didn’t, ah,  _ enjoy myself  _ too that night. Besides, even if it wasn’t- wasn’t part of the plan, it still did give us Frodo. I’d say that makes a little embarrassment well worth it.”

Despite still feeling more than a little mortified, Thorin huffed out a chuckle, rising to look his lover in the eye.

Then another realization struck him, one that left him feeling frozen.

“W... wait, you... you were...”

“Thorin?” Bilbo prompted.

“You- you were already... when, when you went into the mountain to face the- the dragon, you were...”

Bilbo blinked, then flushed, clearing his throat.

“Er, well... I wasn’t really aware of it, but... yes, I was.”

Thorin heard himself take a sharp, shaky breath.

Bilbo had been with child when he went into the mountain. When he faced the dragon. When the dragon nearly  _ killed him. _

When Thorin... when he had...

“Thorin? Thorin, what’s-?”

Thorin’s knees gave out under him, making Bilbo yelp as he tried to keep him standing. 

“Thorin, what’s wrong? Why are- okay, let’s- let’s sit down, er- on the floor, I suppose...”

He nodded numbly, falling down onto the floor and breathing shallowly.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice foreign to his own ears. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, I-I, you- I could have- you were, and I-!”

“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, voice blessedly gentle and soft, “Thorin, you didn’t know and neither did I. And I already told you, you weren’t in your right state of mind when you did and said those things.”

“But- but I still- I still tried to  _ kill  _ you. I still tried to, to kill our  _ child,  _ and I-I said such  _ awful  _ things and let a war go on and-!”

“Thorin. Thorin, you were sick. You weren’t yourself, and I know that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, or our baby, not on purpose. You broke free of the sickness, of something that’s plagued your family line for centuries, and you’ve  _ stayed  _ free.” He leaned down, kissing Thorin’s forehead. “I love you, I trust you, and right now, I need you to  _ breathe.” _

Thorin gasped, shaking as Bilbo pulled him into his arms. He took a deep breath, letting it out after a moment before taking another breath. Bilbo rubbed his back gently, hushing him and holding him tight.

“I... I’m sorry,” Thorin murmured after he finally calmed down, shame coiled hot in his gut. 

“Hush, now, it’s alright.” Bilbo pulled back, kissing Thorin gently. “I love you-  _ all  _ of you, from your head to your... oddly shaped toes.”

Thorin gave him an indignant look.

“They are  _ not  _ oddly-shaped.”

“I’ve seen a variety of Dwarven toes recently, dearest, they  _ are  _ oddly-shaped.” Bilbo kissed him again. “And I love them, because I love  _ you.  _ That’s all there is to it.”

“Bilbo...” Thorin smiled a little, pressing his forehead against his lover’s. “Mahal has truly blessed me to be given a One such as you.”

Bilbo snorted, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck.

“Sap.” He yawned, curls trembling slightly. “It’s still dark out, you know. We don’t leave until well after sunrise.”

Thorin’s stomach churned.

“... Thorin. You know that you have to go back.”

“... I know.” He bit his lip. “Do I, though-?”

_ “Thorin.” _

“Alright, alright!” He paused. “... Could you not laugh at me when Balin yells at me, though?”

Bilbo laughed, leaning in and kissing him gently.

“I will not make promises I cannot keep, my dear.”

Thorin pouted, then grinned, reaching down and grabbing hold of his lover’s behind. Bilbo squawked, turning an enticing shade of red.

“Oh, you-!”

“Relax, burglar,” Thorin purred, leaning in to kiss Bilbo’s cheeks. “I will not make any promises I cannot keep either.”

Bilbo flushed even more, then pulled him in for a proper kiss before pulling away to guide him across the hall. Thorin laughed, scooping him up and carrying him to the bed before dropping him on it and climbing on top of him.

Which was when Frodo started crying again. Thorin groaned, dropping his head to Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Welcome to my life for the past year, darling,” Bilbo teased. 

Thorin pinched his bottom in response.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to finish this chapter today, so you're getting it a week early, yaaaaaay!
> 
> Not too much to say about this one, other than I had a lot of fun writing Bilbo and Thorin together again, and Thorin getting to be a dad.
> 
> Oh, and thank you to everyone who sent well-wishes for my grandfather last week! The surgery went well, and he's doing fine!
> 
> That's it for this chapter! At the latest, the next chapter will be on the 24th! Thank you for all the support!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	8. Chapter 7: Until the Morning

Thorin swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he stared up at the mountain looming overhead. 

He’d been so sure when he left last night that he’d never come back. He’d been so relieved- a little guilty, but so overwhelmingly  _ relieved. _

And now...

He sighed, shifting Frodo around in his arms so he could see the mountain better.

“Look,  _ gimleluh.  _ This is where adad was born.”

Frodo gurgled, wiggling in Thorin’s arms and batting at the grey hairs in Thorin’s beard, and despite the nerves swirling and twisting in his gut, Thorin couldn’t help but smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead.

“Thorin?” He heard Bilbo call. “Thorin, we’re going in now.”

Thorin cringed, his heart stuttering as he clutched Frodo close to his chest. Bilbo sighed behind him, stepping in front of him and reaching up to cradle his cheek.

“Thorin, you know that you have to go back.”

“I... I do, I simply...” He bit his lip, furrowing his brow nervously. “Now that I have had a moment away from- from all of this, I... I’m a bit embarrassed about how I acted.”

Bilbo smiled, getting up on his toes and kissing Thorin gently. 

“Dearest, it’s going to be alright. I won’t lie to you- they might be upset about how you went about admitting what was going on with you, but they love you and I know that they will want to help you.”

Thorin managed to smile a little, though he was still hesitant.

“... well... maybe we could just- just stay out here a bit longer?”

“Thorin.”

“It’s just- maybe Frodo would like some more fresh air before we go into the mountain!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, taking Thorin’s hand and pulling him along.

“Well, Frodo can tell us if he wants more fresh air when he can actually speak for himself. For now, his da and adad will be making decisions for him.”

“... does his adad get to object to going into the mountain?”

“Not if he doesn’t want to sleep on a rock tonight.”

“That’s fair,” Thorin admitted as they rejoined the others, swallowing hard as the door to the mountain opened. Bilbo squeezed his hand comfortingly, and Frodo cooed, snuggling into his chest.

“Amad! Adad!” He heard Kili call, his heart hammering in his chest as his nephew rushed out. Dis stepped forward, holding her arms out.

“Hello,  _ mizimith-!” _

“No time for reunions, amad! We have to go after Uncle!”

Thorin flinched, then gave his lover a look when he chuckled under his breath. He sighed, taking a step forward.

“Kili-!”

“Not now, Thorin, we have to-!” Kili blinked, furrowing his brow as he looked up at him. “Wait, you... but we just found-! Oh, hi, Bilbo, good to-! Uncle, why do you have a baby?”

Thorin grinned sheepishly.

“Well... it’s, it’s kind of a long story.” He shifted Frodo around. “In short- Kili, this is your cousin, Frodo.”

Kili blinked, his mouth falling open as his eyes went wide. 

“I... you... what?!” He looked around, crossing his arms. “Wait a moment, did- did everyone know except me?”

“To be fair, I only found out last night,” Thorin conceded, lifting a hand to let Frodo grab at his fingers. Kili made a face, throwing his hands up.

“I decide to stay home from  _ one  _ trip to get my parents...”

Before Thorin could say anything, he heard Fili chuckle, watching as he walked up to his brother and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Yes, I’m sure that you were bored out of your mind, little brother. By the way, did you get started on the cradle yet?”

Kili blinked, then flushed up to the roots of his hair.

“Uh...”

“Kili?” Dis started, voice low and guarded. “Kili, what is he talking about?”

Kili laughed nervously, then shot a glare at Thorin.

“You told them?!” He hissed. Thorin shrugged.

“Well, technically,  _ Fili  _ is the one who first mentioned a baby.”

“What?!” Kili turned his glare on his brother. “Fili!”

“I thought he knew about Frodo!”

The two started to squabble, and Dis sighed, stepping forward and pulling them apart.

“Stop. Let’s take a step back, shall we? Now,  _ what  _ are you talking about?”

Kili all but audibly swallowed, laughing nervously.

“Er... well... maybe we should, um, bring this conversation inside...”

Thorin snorted, then froze when he saw Balin approach them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. In his hand was a letter, and Thorin would be lying if he said he didn’t know what the contents of that letter were.

“I think that may be wise.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo sighed as he bounced Frodo up and down, hushing him as he walked the halls outside the meeting chamber the members of the line of Durin had occupied to speak- or perhaps  _ yell  _ was the more accurate term- about Thorin’s desire to abdicate and leave the mountain.

“Frodo, I’m going to tell you now- yelling like that is not a very productive way to discuss things.” He paused. “Unless you are trying to communicate with a Sackville-Baggins, I suppose. Though only because they don’t seem to recognize any other form of communication.”

Frodo giggled, then yawned, snuggling into Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Hopefully they’ll simply leave you be, though...” Bilbo murmured as he turned a corner. He paused when he did, turning to look up at a series of tapestries. Some of them were older than others, with newer sections where they’d been repaired. He recognized somewhat stylized depictions of Thorin and Dis, though both were much younger. There were also two older Dwarves behind them, a dark-haired male wearing an intricate golden circlet and a blonde female wearing a silvery tiara encrusted with rubies. On the woman’s lap was a very young boy, still completely beardless and grinning wide.

Bilbo swallowed, adjusting Frodo a bit.

He’d heard stories about Thrain, of course- Thorin and the others spoke of Thorin’s father quite fondly. But in all the time he’d spent with the Dwarves, he’d never heard much about Thorin’s mother or brother.  

He could see her in all of them, though. Thorin had her smile, Dis had her brow, and the youngest child had her eyes. Bilbo swallowed, moving Frodo so he could look up at the tapestry.

“Look, sweetheart. Those are your grandparents.” He pointed at Thrain. “That’s your grandfather, Thrain, and that’s your grandmother... er...”

“Edda,” someone said from nearby. Bilbo jumped, relaxing when he saw that it was only Oin. “The Queen Mother was named Edda.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat, shuffling a bit. “Well, Frodo, this is your grandmother, Edda.”

Frodo cooed, wiggling around to try and reach for the tapestry.

“Ah, no, no, that is older than you and I both!” Bilbo scolded, pulling his son back.

Oin laughed, shaking his head.

“Such a precious pebble... you have honored us once again, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo paused, arching an eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

“When Thorin was born, there was a great celebration. Lasted for weeks.” Oin stroked his beard. “It would be a bit late, but by tradition the firstborn child of the king should have a similar celebration.”

Bilbo blinked.

“Uh... what?”

“We’ll have to send the invitations out right away, of course. It’d be seen as a great insult if we were to have such a great festival without at least notifying Dain. Last thing we need is a squabble between Erebor and the Iron Hills.”

Bilbo swallowed, taking a step back.

“Er... well, I suppose if it’s a- a tradition... does it have to be so grand, though? I mean, it’s- I’m only a Hobbit, and, and Thorin and I aren’t even formally  _ married...” _

“Eh? Well, you know as well as I how hairy Thorin is!”

Bilbo blinked, shaking his head.

“No, Oin, I said  _ married.” _

Oin held up his ear horn.

“What was that?”

Bilbo resisted the urge to groan.

“No, I said-!”

“He heard you,  _ azyungel,”  _ Thorin said as he walked up to them. “Oin is simply employing his unique ability to hear only what he wants.”

Bilbo blinked once more, then rolled his eyes. Oin chuckled, walking away to join his brother and his family. Thorin laughed, slinging an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders before pressing a kiss into the side of his head.

“Was there actually a weeks-long celebration when you were born?”

“Aye, it went on for nearly a month. Apparently the mountain’s stores of ale were almost depleted by the end of it. Legend has it that my grandfather and Balin and Dwalin’s father downed half of it in a drinking contest.”

Bilbo gave him a look.

“I’m on your side on this, Bilbo. The last thing I want is a raucous celebration.” Thorin’s smile fell. “Especially now, when I don’t...”

Bilbo frowned, shifting Frodo to one arm and touching Thorin’s face with his free hand.

“When you don’t what, dearest?”

Thorin flinched, giving him a clearly forced smile as he pulled away.

“It’s... it’s nothing. Shall I show you to your chambers?”

Bilbo paused, eyebrows rising.

“My... my chambers?”

“Well, yes. You are my intended, after all, that means you’ll be staying in the consort’s chambers.”

Bilbo’s ears started to burn, and he cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, that’s-! Wait.” He narrowed his eyes, putting his freehand on his hip. “Actually, I have quite a few things to say about  _ that, _ Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin blinked, then grinned sheepishly.

“This is about the mithril, isn’t it?”

“Unless you’ve proposed to me in some  _ other  _ way I don’t know about. What in the  _ world  _ were you thinking?”

“Well, not clearly, I can tell you that much,” Thorin murmured, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “However, I do remember thinking that I had to protect you, by any means necessary, and I... when I saw the mithril... and I didn’t trust the others, as ashamed of that as I am now, and I thought if I- if I rewarded you for your loyalty, they would...”

He trailed off, and Bilbo felt some of the indignance melt out of his shoulders.

“Oh, Thorin...” He got on his tiptoes, kissing him again. “I know you weren’t in your right mind, but- well, I would have  _ liked  _ to know that I was getting engaged when I accepted that shirt.”

Thorin chuckled, shaking his head.

“If it helps, I don’t believe I was thinking much about the implications of giving you such a gift in front of the others at the time.” Thorin looked a little bashful. “However, since I  _ did  _ ask, and you  _ did  _ accept...”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, kissing him once more.

“I  _ would  _ like to marry you, dearest.”

Thorin’s eyes lit up.

“However...”

His face fell.

“However? However what, what is the matter?”

“Well, you  _ did  _ propose to me while under the influence of gold-sickness. And, as you’ve just stated, you weren’t actually thinking about proposing to me, just protecting me.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “So... I think it’s fair to say that, well... I’m not really sure it  _ counts  _ as an actual proposal.”

Thorin’s face fell even further, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“I... I suppose you’re right.”

“Oh, don’t look so downtrodden, Thorin, I  _ did  _ say that I wanted to marry you.” Bilbo leaned up, kissing his cheek this time. “It’s simply that  _ you  _ are going to have to wait.”

Thorin blinked.

“Wait... wait for- wait for what?”

Bilbo smirked at him, kissing him on the lips one more time.

“For me to ask you, of course.”

With that, he started to walk away, leaving a stunned Thorin behind.

“Well, come on, then. Weren’t you going to show me where the consort’s chambers are?”

He heard Thorin swallow, and when his lover rejoined them Bilbo noted that he was very,  _ very  _ red in the face.

 

* * *

 

The consort’s chambers were, quite bluntly,  _ lavish.  _ The area had to be at least half the size of Bag End- no small feat, considering that Bag End took up much of the hill Bilbo’s father had dug it in. Someone had taken the time to set up a small nursery next to the bedchambers, and Bilbo was rather relieved to note that it had a private bath, as he was quite tired of having to wait for others to finish bathing so he could be alone.

“This is really all mine?” Bilbo asked breathlessly. Thorin shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned on the doorway.

“You are my intended, and you are the parent of my child. I would have you both comfortable.” He shrugged. “Also, this is the only unoccupied chamber in this wing with a nursery.”

Bilbo laughed, then bounced Frodo a bit when he fussed. 

“I think someone’s hungry,” Thorin said as he walked over to the bag of baby supplies. He knelt down, pulling out a full bottle of milk. “I think that’s the last bottle.”

Bilbo sighed, shaking his head as he took the bottle and put it to their son’s lips.

“I’ll fill a few more before dinner,” he murmured, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “So, how did the talk with the others go?”

Thorin groaned, sitting down next to Bilbo and Frodo heavily.

“I am still king, though Balin has agreed to support me in my desire to leave the throne. I suspect he’s not happy about it.”

“He  _ did  _ follow you halfway across the globe to see you become king, dearest.”

Thorin sighed, flopping back on the bed and covering his eyes with his palms.

“I know, I know, I just...”

He trailed off, and Bilbo frowned as he moved Frodo so he could burp him.

“You just what, Thorin?”

“... I... I don’t know, I just...” he sighed, shaking his head. “I’m tired, Bilbo. I am  _ always  _ tired, and I- I don’t know how to be a good king if I can’t... can’t keep it together.”

Bilbo’s heart twinged just as Frodo burped, and he winced before laying Frodo down on the bed and turning to his lover.

“Thorin, I may not have seen you rule in this setting- at least, not at your best- but I saw you lead a ragtag group of Dwarrows across half the continent. I heard stories about how you took over ruling from your grandfather, how you put everyone before yourself. You are a good leader.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Thorin’s temple. “Even if you don’t think you are.”

After a moment, Thorin smiled, threading his hand to the back of his head and pulling him down for a proper kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured against Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo grinned, kissing him again before being startled by a surprisingly loud snore from a certain little Hobbit. He and Thorin looked at each other for a moment, then both snorted, trailing into laughter so loud that Frodo woke up and babbled angrily at them.

And all Bilbo could think was that he couldn’t possibly be happier.

 

* * *

 

Even though Frodo had only known Adad for a very short time, he already knew one thing very clearly- that he loved him a lot. Adad was big, and sturdy, and had a beard like all the other Dwarves but his had lots of little grey hairs in it that were fun to play with, and when he laughed his tummy rumbled and that made Frodo laugh too. 

What Frodo liked best, though, was that Da was really, really happy now. He and Adad both had big smiles on their faces a lot, and they’d laugh and sometimes they’d smoosh their faces together like Dis and Vee did, which was weird but it made them really happy, so Frodo was happy.

He really liked Kee, too. He and Fee were a lot alike, except Kee’s beard was bumpy instead of hairy, which was really neat even if everybody kept teasing him about it. They also teased him about Tauri the Elf lady, but he didn’t seem as mad about that. He kept looking at her like Da and Adad looked at each other.

Frodo didn’t really get it, but they looked happy.

The person that Frodo really,  _ really  _ liked, though, was Balin. Balin was short like Da, but he had a long, soft white beard and liked to tell Frodo stories about Adad that made Adad make funny noises and turn funny colors. 

“... took my Adad  _ hours  _ to find him,” Balin said with a laugh, bouncing Frodo on his knee. “Thorin was halfway to the Iron Hills by the time he did. Had to tie him up and haul him back over his shoulder.”

Everyone at the table roared with laughter except Adad, who was very, very red in the face and pouting. 

“I was fifty-nine, and it was  _ one  _ time.”

“Oh, aye, that was the only time you got that far,” Dwalin said, smacking Adad’s shoulder so hard that he made a funny noise. “There were a dozen other times you tried to get there, and wasn’t there at least one time you were brought home by a bunch of Elves?”

Da made a choking noise, and Adad turned to give him a funny, scrunchy kind of look. Da chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Thorin. Your sister’s already told me quite a few  _ worse  _ stories than that.”

Adad squawked, turning to Dis, who simply drank her tea.

“I told you I’d get you back for telling Vili about my thirty-seventh birthday.”

Adad rolled his eyes as Dwarves Frodo didn’t know took all the plates away, and he yawned as Balin handed him over to Da, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Alright, I think it’s time for little ones to get ready for bed-!”

Frodo felt someone else’s hands take him, and he blinked sleepily up at Kee.

“Actually, Bilbo, why don’t I take him for a little while? I mean, I  _ am  _ going to have one of my own in just a little while. It’d be good practice.”

“Er... well, that’s- that’s very sweet, Kili, but I don’t-!”

Frodo yawned, snuggling into Kee’s chest.

“... oh, alright. But!” Da stepped closer to Kee. “You had better keep a  _ very  _ close eye on him, do you hear me?”

Kee moved Frodo around in his arms, raising one of his hands.

“I swear on my honor as a son of Durin that I will return my baby cousin with all ten toes and ten fingers in place.”

Da rolled his eyes, and Adad stepped in front of him.

“Not a hair on his head is to be harmed, Kili. Am I understood?”

Kee sighed, nodding as he turned Adad around.

_ “Yes,  _ Uncle, I’ll make sure he’s safe and happy. Off you go, have fun relaxing or whatever!”

Frodo was mostly asleep when Kee walked over to Fee, grunting when Kee sat down next to him.

_ “Now  _ will you tell me why you made me offer to take Frodo from Uncle and Bilbo?”

Fee snorted.

“You didn’t see them in the street last night, Kili. If they didn’t get some alone time, I think one of them might explode.” Fee paused. “Probably Uncle.”

“Fili! Gross!”

“Oh, come on, you’re the one who’s having a baby!”

Kee groaned.

“Did you have to say that you knew in front of Amad?”

“Considering that you told her about Naina? Yes. Yes I did.”

“Fili, I hate to tell you, but she would have figured it out the second she saw the two of you interact. When are you going to talk to her-  _ actually  _ talk to her?”

Fee snorted.

“Sure, I’ll do that. As soon as  _ you  _ ask Tauriel to marry you.”

Frodo felt Kee shrug.

“Then you’ll have to start thinking of things to talk to her about, because I’m almost done crafting my masterwork.”

“Wh-! You-!”

Frodo whined, and his cousins went very still, only relaxing when he sighed.

“Shh! If he cries, Amad will yell at us! Or worse, tell Bilbo!”

He heard Fee groan.

“I swear, Uncle better not screw up with Bilbo again, or I might have to take the throne earlier than I want to...”

 

* * *

 

Thorin fell back on the bed with a huff, his heart pounding and his chest heaving as his senses slowly returned. 

“W... Well!” Bilbo started after a moment, still trembling slightly in Thorin’s lap. “That... that was...  _ goodness.” _

All Thorin could do was swallow, giving a half nod in agreement. Bilbo laughed, brushing a few sweat-soaked curls out of his eyes before leaning down to kiss him gently before getting off of him and curling into Thorin’s arm.

“... Mahal’s beard,” Thorin finally breathed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. His lover laughed again, pushing on Thorin’s arm until he lifted it, snuggling into his side. 

“I agree. Goodness, I think I missed that even more than I realized.” Bilbo kissed his cheek. “Although I don’t think I’m the only one here in that situation.”

Thorin laughed, turning onto his side and kissing his Bilbo properly. Bilbo sighed against his lips, pressing into his chest and draping an arm over Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin smiled as he pulled away, moving to cup his cheek.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring at me,” Bilbo murmured, fingers running over Thorin’s chest hair. “Something on my face?”

Thorin laughed, shaking his head.

“No, I was just thinking about how much I love you.” He kissed him again. “And how lucky I am to have such a handsome One.”

Bilbo blinked, then blushed, swatting his shoulder playfully even as he giggled.

“Flatterer.” He yawned, wriggling out of Thorin’s arms. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Thorin hummed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over his shoulder.

“And I’m guessing you’re not going to be awake by the time I get back, are you?”

Thorin grunted, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“No, I-!” A yawn tore out of his throat. “M’fine, I can stay awake if you-!”

Bilbo laughed, pushing Thorin onto his back.

“Only teasing, dearest.” He kissed his temple. “Get some rest.”

Part of Thorin wanted to argue, but exhaustion was already creeping into his veins, slowly closing his eyes as sleep claimed him.

...

_ Fire. _

_ Fire as he’d never seen before, a heat so great that it was as though the mountain was melting from the inside out, burning and sweltering and Thorin was running away, running from the fireball, where were his siblings? He had to find them, had to get them out, had to- _

_ Moria. The ground strewn with dead, some unrecognizable, and the orc was lifting his warhammer above Frerin’s head, and he was so close but Thorin couldn’t seem to get closer, his screams falling on deaf ears, the hammer came down- _

_ Gold. Gold, so much gold, enough to drown in, and Bilbo was at his side and trying to tell him something, telling him he needed to eat, but his words were so far away, and he still needed to find- _

_ The Arkenstone. It was in Bard’s hand, why was it in Bard’s hand, why was Bilbo looking at him like that, how could he have done this, the one person he trusted- _

_ He was dangling Bilbo over the edge. Why was he doing this? He had to stop, he wanted to stop, he had to pull Bilbo back to safety- _

_ He let go. _

Thorin bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath and shaking. The room was dark and still, and there was a lump in the space next to him- Bilbo, soundly asleep.

Thorin took a shaky breath, swallowing as he tried to force himself to calm down. 

“Just a dream,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he got out of bed. “Just a dream, nothing more.”

He slipped back into his smallclothes and trousers silently, his heart still pounding in his chest. Just as he found his tunic, though, a cry came from the nursery, followed by a groan from the bed.

“Thor’n...? What, what are you doin’ up so late?”

Thorin flinched, looking over his shoulder and smiling nervously.

“Just- I was using the bathroom, that’s all. I’ll get Frodo, go back to sleep.”

Bilbo paused for a moment, then yawned, lying back down.

“M’kay...”

Thorin sighed, slipping his tunic back on before walking into the nursery and over to Frodo’s cradle.

“Shh, shh, Frodo, it’s alright, I’m here,  _ gimleluh,  _ it’s alright...” 

Frodo whimpered as Thorin rocked him, clutching at Thorin’s wrinkled tunic. Thorin hummed, walking over to the baby bag and getting a bottle out. Frodo all but grabbed the bottle, sucking with all the power in his tiny body. 

Thorin smiled, humming as he walked over to the chair on the other end of the room, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Thorin murmured. “You’re still little. You don’t have to be king of anything. You don’t have to think about... about things you don’t want to think about. You don’t have to be anything but little.”

Frodo sighed, pushing the bottle away. Thorin put it to the side, burping his son before cradling him once more.

“Take your time falling back asleep,” he muttered. “I doubt I’m going to get anymore tonight.”

Frodo, it seemed, was keen to take his advice- an hour passed before he slept again, though once he fell asleep he slept through the night.

Thorin was not so lucky, and as was not uncommon spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling. 

He was almost grateful, just because it meant not slipping back into a nightmare for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so late! I wish I could say it won't happen again, buuuuut midterms are over and I have projects to work on. I am going to move updates to Fridays at least, so I won't have to try and do homework at the same time as I'm trying to finish chapters lmao. 
> 
> Next chapter will (hopefully) be up by November 9th! Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos so far, I really do appreciate it!


	9. Chapter 8: If I Should Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: slight unreality (e.g. Thorin has a nightmare), slight body horror (aftermath of a past battle)

“... dowry payments, not really applicable at this point... minimum of- oh, well, that’s  _ definitely  _ not going to be an issue... wait, what’s this about a...” Bilbo squinted, holding the contract closer to his face. “A... red cloth? Please don’t tell me that has something to do with- with a virginity clause, because I think we’re  _ well  _ past that at this point.”

Balin quirked an eyebrow, leaning over and taking a look at the contract.

“Ah, that. No, that’s nothing to worry about, it’s just to make sure you actually read the contract. No one actually cares about that.”

Bilbo huffed as he turned back to the contract.

“Good, because I’m afraid we missed the boat on that by about twenty years.”

“Eww...” Fili and Kili chorused from the other side of the room. Kili covered Frodo’s ears to further his point, and Fili in turned covered Kili’s. “There are impressionable young minds about, Uncle Bilbo!”

Bilbo scoffed.

“Please, he’s not even a year old yet.”

“I meant me and Kili,” Fili deadpanned.

“Kili is going to be a father in less than a year.”

“Then just me!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he turned back to the contract, though he couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Things had been going rather well the past couple of weeks. It taken some getting used to, not least because having someone to raise Frodo with was an entirely new experience, and Thorin was nothing if not a dedicated father. Every time Frodo woke up in the middle of the night crying, Thorin would insist on being the one to go attend to him. Bilbo had considered protesting and insisting they split the responsibility, but, well... he  _ had  _ been doing it by himself for nearly a year, and he couldn’t find it in him to deny Thorin more time with his child.

Plus, he sort of liked getting more sleep, if he were being perfectly honest.

And Thorin didn’t really seem to mind, either. In fact, he seemed more than happy to do it, always kissing Bilbo on the forehead and telling him to go back to sleep.

Though he  _ did  _ look rather tired this morning. Perhaps Bilbo ought to put his foot down on this matter, at least for a little while- Thorin had spent much of the last week and a half arguing with the council over who should rule in Thorin’s stead until Fili was ready to be crowned, after all. Thorin wanted it to be Dis, since she had plenty of experience and would have no reason to change the line of succession. The council, on the other hand, insisted on appointing Dain to the position, saying that since he had been so instrumental in the reconstruction of Erebor, it would be taken as a grave insult if he were to be passed over for the position.

“Nevermind that Dain already has a kingdom of his own, and would probably laugh in their face if he was given the offer,” Thorin had complained one night when they were settling into bed. “And even if he did accept it for some unfathomable reason, he could try to name his own son as his heir rather than Fili, which would cause a completely unnecessary crisis down the line.”

“Dain has a son?” 

“Aye, though he’s still only a pebble. Still, though I doubt Dain would accept, I know why the council is insisting on him.”

“Oh?”

“They know what kind of crisis it could cause, and moreover, they know that  _ I  _ know that. They are trying to leverage Fili’s eventual ascension to keep me from abdicating.”

“... well. That’s just rude.”

Thorin had laughed, shaking his head and pulling Bilbo closer.

“Perhaps you should be the one to deal with them, my burglar.”

“Thorin, if you want me to-!”

“I’m kidding,  _ ghivashel.”  _

“Thorin...”

His lover had smiled and repeated that he was fine for what had to be the thousandth time. 

Bilbo bit back a sigh, running a hand through his curls as he leaned back in the chair. Thorin had been better recently, that was true, but... well, Bilbo couldn’t help the thought that he wasn’t really operating at his best. He still looked so tired all the time, and he would sometimes start saying something, only to trail off, smile uneasily, and say it was nothing.

He was still hiding something, and Bilbo couldn’t help but worry that it was going to end with him crashing in the end.

“Master Baggins!”

Bilbo jumped in his seat, turning to the door with wide eyes.

“Naina!” Fili exclaimed, ears turning red. “I-I... hi!”

Naina blinked, though Bilbo didn’t miss the way her lips turned up in a little smile as she brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Hello, your Highness. It’s... it’s nice to see you.”

Fili grinned even wider, a flush spreading over his cheeks. After a moment in which no one said anything, Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Uh, miss?”

“... hm? Oh!” Naina blushed, clearing her throat. “Ah, um, my- my apologies, Master Baggins, um... Master Oin sent me to get you.”

Bilbo frowned, putting the contract down.

“Is everything alright?”

Naina shook her head.

“I’m afraid that His Majesty has come down with a fever.”

Bilbo blinked, lips parting as he got out of his chair.

“Is- is he alright?”

Naina pursed her lips, clearly hesitating.

“Well... Master Oin said that he’ll be fine if he rests for a few days.”

Bilbo blinked, then sighed.

“And let me guess- he’s refusing to rest?”

She smiled nervously as she nodded, and Bilbo bit back a groan, walking towards the door.

“Fili, Kili, keep an eye on Frodo, would you? I have to make sure his father doesn’t try to work himself to death.”

By the time that Bilbo made it to his intended’s chambers, a small crowd had gathered outside. Dis and Dwalin were in the center, the later holding onto a visibly protesting Thorin.

“Just what is going on here?” 

“Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his too-pale face. “Bilbo, tell my sister and my cousin that I am perfectly fine!”

“Considering that Oin’s assistant just came to ask me to get you to rest, I don’t think I will. Thorin, come on, go to bed.”

Thorin shook his head.

“No, I’m-!” Thorin suddenly started coughing weakly. “M’fine, I can... I can work...”

“Dearest, you’re shaking.” He took a step toward him, holding up a few fingers. “Thorin, how many fingers am I holding up.”

His intended paused, squinting a bit.

“I... you have to stop moving first, or, or else I can’t tell...”

Bilbo sighed, shaking his head.

“Alright, that’s enough. Dwalin, please bring him into his bedchamber, I’ll take it from here.”

Dwalin nodded even as Thorin protested tiredly, kicking listlessly as his cousin carried him back to his bed. It took several Dwarrow to keep him there, but Bilbo managed to get them all out and press up against the door before he escaped.

“Thorin,  _ bed.  _ You need rest, or you’ll just get work.”

“I’m-!” More coughing. “Bilbo, I’m  _ fine...” _

“Sweetheart, you look like you might collapse at any second.  _ Again,  _ I might add,” Bilbo said as he pushed him back towards his bed. “You need to get some sleep.”

He heard Thorin take a shallow, shaky breath.

“N-No, I don’t- I’m  _ fine,  _ truly I am, I don’t-!” Yet another round of coughing, this time with some added wheezing. “I’m fine, you... just leave me in...”

_ “Leave me in peace,  _ Hobbit.  _ I shall not rest until I find it!” _

Bilbo’s throat tightened, and he grit his teeth, curling his fingers in Thorin’s cloak.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I am  _ not  _ having this argument with you  _ again,  _ you are  _ going  _ to go to bed and that’s that!”

He felt Thorin flinch, and a pang of guilt stabbed at him for a moment before his lover sighed, finally trudging towards the bed of his own volition. Bilbo bit his lip, taking a step forward as Thorin crawled into his bed.

“Thorin-!”

“I’ll rest. You don’t have to stay.”

Bilbo swallowed, then sighed, shaking his head and heading for the door.

“Very well. I’ll check up on you in a little while.” He hesitated, then took a breath. “I love you, Thorin. Sleep well.”

Thorin said nothing as he settled against the pillow, and Bilbo swallowed once more, resolving to apologize when Thorin felt better before leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

“Thorin! Thorin, look, look!”

Thorin smiled as he turned around, kneeling to his younger brother’s eye level.

“Yes, Frerin?”

Frerin grinned, holding something behind his back as he rocked to and fro on the balls of his feet.

“Did you know that, that if you soak a raisin in grape juice, it turns back into a grape?”

Thorin blinked, arching an eyebrow.

“Uh... no, Frerin, I didn’t know that, actually.”

His brother giggled, bouncing a little.

“That’s because... it’s not true!” He announced gleefully as he held out what he’d been hiding behind his back, which turned out to be a rock with a face scribbled on it. “It’s a rock fact! My new friend told me so!”

Thorin blinked again, then smiled a little.

“And let me guess- your friend is your little rock here?”

“Yes! His name is Dain.”

Thorin’s eyebrow arched again.

“He wouldn’t happen to be named after our cousin, would he?”

“He’s a stubborn blockhead,” Frerin informed him solemnly.

“Really. And who told you that?”

“Dis.”

Thorin laughed again, shaking his head and reaching out to ruffle his brother’s hair.

“Don’t listen to everything that Dis-!”

Thorin froze when his hand touched nothing, blinking when he realized that he was no longer in the Royal Wing, but rather overlooking the treasure room. His grandfather was down in the gold, laughing and marveling at the hoard like a Dwarrow possessed. 

Thorin swallowed, then took a step forward, opening his mouth to call out to him. Before a single syllable could pass his lips, though, a lump formed in his throat- no, not formed, something  _ leapt into  _ his throat, stopping his words and choking him, more and more as he struggled, the world went dark and then-

And then-

Fire. Fire everywhere, burning the mountain away until there was nothing but ash, and then-

And then-

A field. His grandfather’s head in front of his feet. His father’s mad, mournful cry in the distance, and then-

_ “...nightmare...” _

His brother. His baby brother, Frerin, lying there, too still, there was so much  _ blood  _ and Frerin’s  _ skull was- _

_ “...rin, wake...” _

_ It was too late, he was too late, Frerin was- _

_ “Thorin-!” _

_ It was all his fault, his grandfather was dead, his father was gone, his little brother was dead and it was all his- _

“Thorin! Please, sweetheart, you have to wake up!”

Hot. It was so  _ hot,  _ had it always been so hot in this room?

Where was he?

Who was the beautiful, strangely blurry creature above him with curly hair?

He felt dizzy. And damp. 

And sleepy.

“Thorin? Thorin, are you alright?”

Thorin blinked, furrowing his brow as he sluggishly turned his head. His eyes stung when they fell on the blonde Dwarrow at his bedside, and he tried to reach for him.

_ “Frerin,”  _ he mumbled weakly,  _ “oh, little brother, I am so sorry.” _

Frerin blinked, seeming confused.

_ “Uncle, what are you talking about? It’s- I’m Fili. Your sister-son.” _

Thorin laughed, then coughed so hard that his whole body shook.

_ “You will never grow out of joking, will you, little brother?”  _ He took a trembling breath.  _ “It was my fault, Frerin, you... you never should have been out there.” _

“What’s he saying?”

“He, um- I, I think he’s delirious, he thinks I’m...  _ Thorin, I’m not your brother. Your sister is my mother.” _

_ “Now I know you’re full of it. Who would marry Dis? She’s mean.”  _ His eyes felt heavy, and his vision started to go dark.  _ “Forgive me, Frerin. I should have spoken up against our grandfather... when I had the chance...” _

Thorin could still hear distant voices speaking as the world faded away, sleep claiming him as the heat subsided.

 

* * *

 

There was a dizzying flurry of activity in Thorin’s bedchamber after he passed out, and before he could even ask what exactly he and Fili had been talking about, Bilbo found himself standing outside the room, the door shut tightly behind him.

He blinked once, twice, three times, then took a breath, furrowing his brow and turning around to knock once more and demand to go back in. 

_ Why should you get to see him? What sort of partner have you been lately? _

He froze, fist less than an inch from the stone doorway. Bilbo swallowed, slowly lowering his hand and turning his gaze to his feet.

He... he hadn’t exactly been the most attentive of partners recently, had he? He hadn’t thought much of it, but it wasn’t exactly healthy for Thorin to be the one to get up in the middle of the night every single time Frodo cried. And he’d been looking so tired lately... had he been having nightmares like that all this time?

Had Bilbo simply not noticed?

He bit his lip, bunching up his trousers in his fists for a moment before taking a breath and turning around. He walked back into his own rooms without a word, closing the door behind him and sighing. He spent the rest of the afternoon in his chambers, mainly tending to Frodo, who seemed quite displeased that his adad wasn’t there as well.

“Well, I’m not happy about it either,” he muttered as he bounced a cranky Frodo, who whined and smacked his chubby hand against Bilbo’s shoulder. “Ow! No, no hitting, Frodo Baggins!”

Frodo whined again, babbling unhappily as Bilbo rubbed his back. There was a knock at the door, startling them both. 

“Bilbo?” He heard Fili call through the door, sounding a bit nervous. “Can we come in?”

“Ah, yes, sure! The- the door is unlocked, but watch your step, Frodo threw Beorn at it a while ago and I haven’t gotten the chance to pick it up yet!”

Fili and Dis turned out to be the ones at the door, and Fili was kind enough to bring Frodo’s bear back to him.

“He misses Thorin, huh?” Fili asked quietly as Frodo took possession of Beorn again, blinking when he dropped it. 

“Just... leave it, Fili, he thinks it’s a game.” Bilbo sighed. “I’m afraid he’s not thrilled that his adad is otherwise indisposed today.”

As if to confirm it, Frodo blew a raspberry, wiggling until Bilbo carried him over to his makeshift playpen and placed him in it so he wouldn’t escape into the mountain.

“I’m sure my brother would rather be able to see his child than lie feverish in his bed,” Dis mused. She bit her lip, clearly hesitating, then sighed. “Bilbo...”

Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Well... I’m sure you know what I’m going to ask. Look, I know that it’s- it’s rather taboo to teach outsiders Khuzdul, but I’m not- well, I’m not asking for a direct translation-!”

“Uncle thought that I was his brother,” Fili said quietly as he walked over to Frodo’s pen, not looking at Bilbo as he knelt down to play with his cousin. Bilbo blinked, eyebrows rising.

“He... he did?”

“Oin said he was delirious,” Fili murmured as Frodo grabbed at his fingers. From his tone, it was clear that that wasn’t the only thing that he’d said.

“... what else did he say?”

Fili didn’t say anything, and after a moment Dis sighed.

“Thorin apologized for Frerin dying, and for not saying anything about our grandfather’s madness before it was too late.”

Bilbo blinked, then felt his heart shatter, the pieces settling somewhere near the pit of his gut.

“Oh... oh, Thorin...”

Dis sighed, folding her arms over her chest.

“Our... our little brother was... he died in battle. The same battle that our grandfather died in, as well as Dwalin and Balin’s father, Fundin, and Dain’s father, Nain. Our father also disappeared during this battle.” Dis gripped the small of her arm. “Our grandfather... he passed down an ancient Dwarven treasure to our father upon his death- a ring. It... it was stolen by Azog during the battle, and when our father led an army to retrieve it... he did not come back.”

Bilbo swallowed, covering his mouth with his hand as his eyes welled up.

“I... I didn’t...”

“I have never seen my brother cry over any of this,” Dis said quietly. “Not once have I seen him mourn, and now I wonder... did he ever...?”

_ Did he ever let himself mourn them? _

The question went unspoken, but Bilbo knew what she meant. He swallowed, turning his gaze back to his feet.

Well. He’d been an  _ awful  _ partner recently, hadn’t he? Here he was, enjoying having a little less parenting to do, and Thorin had been on the verge of falling apart all along.

He swallowed once more, then took a deep breath.

“Are... is everyone out of Thorin’s chambers?”

Dis blinked, then smiled gently.

“Aye, except for one of Oin’s assistants.”

“Perfect.” He cleared his throat. “I... don’t suppose that you could-!”

“I’d be more than happy to care for Frodo, Bilbo.” She gestured at the door. “Go and tend to my brother.”

He nodded, thanking both her and Fili before scurrying out the door. He kindly dismissed the nurse Oin had left there, sighing as he pulled up a chair by his intended’s bedside.

“Just what am I going to do with you...?” He murmured as he placed a new cool cloth on Thorin’s forehead, brushing some hair back. Thorin sighed in his sleep, turning his head slightly in Bilbo’s direction. 

Bilbo paused, then smiled a bit, leaning in and kissing his nose. 

“For now, I suppose I’ll just have to take care of you, won’t I? But!” He pointed at Thorin, poking him square in the chest for good measure. “When you wake up, my dear,  _ we, _ we are going to have  _ words.” _

Thorin, being unconscious, responded to this with a soft snore.

 

* * *

 

The next two days went like this- Thorin slept. Thorin woke up a few times a day, drank some water and ate whatever they were able to force him to eat, occasionally left bed for the toilet, declared that Bilbo was the most enchanting creature under the sun, and then passed out again.

Both nights, Bilbo was awoken by his lover crying out in the throes of a nightmare. The guilt nearly ate him alive to think that this may have been how Thorin was living for the past few weeks, or worse, even longer, before he and Bilbo had even been reunited.

Perhaps before they even  _ met. _

Oh, he and Thorin were going to  _ talk  _ about this. This would not go on a minute longer, once Thorin was well again. 

At dawn on the third day, Thorin’s fever broke. He slept a few more hours still- peacefully, thank goodness- before his eyes opened around lunchtime, unclouded for the first time in what felt like an age.

“... Bilbo...?”

Bilbo smiled, leaning over and putting a hand on his cheek.

“Hello, dearest. How are you feeling?”

“... Sweaty, mostly.”

Bilbo laughed, leaning in to kiss Thorin’s forehead.

“Yes, well, that’s because your fever broke this morning. You’ve been ill for the past three days.”

Thorin’s eyes went wide, and he sprang to a sitting position.

“Three-! Is, is everything alright? I, I have so much work to-!”

_ “You _ don’t have to do anything,” Bilbo insisted, pushing him back into bed. “Your fever may have broken, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready to return to work. Besides, I’ll have you know that Dis and Balin have been running the mountain quite smoothly in your stead. I think the council might change their mind about having Dis take over for you.”

Thorin blinked a few times before a relieved smile spread across his face, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he laid back down.

“That’s good to hear...” He frowned. “Wait, where is Frodo?”

“With Dwalin and Ori. Dwalin is surprisingly good with children, actually.”

Thorin snorted.

“That’s not surprising at all. He may be hard on them now, but when they were younglings he spoiled Fili and Kili as much as anyone.”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head as he took Thorin’s hand. They smiled at each other for a moment more, content to just be together.

Then Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Er... actually, though, there... well, something did happen while you were ill.”

Thorin blinked, then groaned, covering his face with a huff.

“What’s broken, and who broke it?”

“Wh- Nothing’s broken, Thorin, it’s- well, it’s something that involved  _ you.” _

Thorin froze, and though his face was still mostly covered by his hand, Bilbo saw his chin turn bright red.

“... in... in my defense, whatever I said, I said while grappling with a high fever.”

Bilbo blinked, then laughed, shaking his head.

“No, Thorin, not- well, you  _ did  _ say a few odd things, but they were all really very sweet. Mostly about how attractive you find me.”

Thorin groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Oh, come now, Thorin, I already knew that!” Bilbo protested with a giggle, climbing onto Thorin and tugging the blanket back down. “I hate to remind you, darling, but you  _ do  _ tend to remind me whenever we’re intimate.”

Thorin gave him a look.

“That is different. When I do it while we’re in bed, I am actually  _ aware  _ of what I’m saying!”

To be perfectly honest, Bilbo thought this was debatable, as much of it was usually nonsense, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Instead, he sighed, cupping Thorin’s cheeks.

“Thorin. You had a nightmare while you were sick.”

His lover immediately froze, eyes going wide as he turned pale.

“I...”

“You actually had  _ several  _ nightmares while you were ill. And at least once, when you woke up, you saw Fili and started calling him... you called him Frerin.”

Thorin swallowed thickly, eyes darting away.

“Thorin... you apologized to him. You said that- that you were sorry, that it was your fault that he died, because you didn’t speak out against your grandfather.”

His lover turned his head, refusing to look at him. Bilbo sighed, brushing his cheek with his thumb.

“Thorin... is that... is that really what you think? That it was your fault that your brother died?”

“... it is what happened.”

Bilbo’s heart sank.

“Thorin-!”

“I... I didn’t... I didn’t understand what was happening to my grandfather. Not... not entirely.” Thorin shifted underneath him. “But I knew that something was wrong, Bilbo. I knew that my grandfather was... that something was happening to him, something bad. And I said nothing, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

Thorin shifted again.

“He... you must understand, my grandfather was stern in his rule, but... just before the dragon came, he... he became outright  _ cruel.  _ I may have held a long grudge against the Elves, but even I thought that withholding the White Gems of Lasgalen was too much. He had no reason to keep Thranduil’s wife’s jewels from him, other than to be unkind. Other than greed.”

“Sweetheart...”

“I thought... I thought, ‘if that’s what he’d do to an Elf, then what would he do to his kin if he knew I doubted him?’” Shame was clear in Thorin’s eyes. “So I stayed silent. I stayed silent, and my home  _ burned  _ because I did. If I... if I had said something, then perhaps... perhaps he might have had me killed, but maybe that would have been enough to- to show others that he wasn’t stable, to fix things before it was too late. Maybe then... maybe Frerin would still be here if I hadn’t...”

“Thorin...” Bilbo swallowed, then cupped Thorin’s cheeks, gently turning his head so that he was looking at him again. “Thorin, do you honestly think that that’s what Frerin would have wanted?”

Thorin blinked, looking up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“I... what?”

“Do you really think that, without knowing what could have happened, Frerin would have been alright with your death? Yes, had that happened, the dragon may never have descended upon Erebor, but do you think that Frerin wouldn’t have mourned your loss as you mourn his?”

Thorin swallowed thickly, eyes suspiciously dewy.

“I...”

Bilbo leaned down, pressing a kiss to Thorin’s forehead.

“What happened to Frerin, to Erebor, it was not your fault. You were afraid to speak out for a reason, and if your depiction of your grandfather is at all accurate, it was a good one. It wasn’t your fault.”

Thorin took a shaky breath, lip wobbling slightly.

“I... I... Bilbo...”

“Thorin... sweetheart, you... did you ever let yourself grieve them?”

His intended swallowed, looking away again.

“I... I am king. I cannot... cannot show...”

“Thorin. It’s only me here, and you- you  _ need  _ to let yourself mourn them. You need to let yourself feel, because it’s... this isn’t  _ healthy,  _ Thorin. I don’t want you to torture yourself like this.”

Thorin’s breath hitched, and in a split second Bilbo found himself lying on his side, blinking as his Dwarf curled around him. He took a breath when he felt Thorin’s chest heaving, the top of his head getting damp as his lover started to cry. He sighed, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his back gently.

“It’s alright, Thorin, just... just let it out. I’m here, it’s alright...”

Thorin trembled in his arms as his sobbed, heartbreaking little gasps making Bilbo’s throat tighten as he hushed him. 

“I’m here, you’re alright... it’s alright, we’re alright...”

Bilbo wasn’t entirely certain how long his intended wept for. Years of bottled-up grief took time to properly express, though, and so he let him cry, holding him tight and soothing him as best he could. When it was finally over, Thorin sniffed and pulled back, sitting up to grab the glass of water Bilbo had brought him earlier. Bilbo sat up as well, scooting over and pressing against his back gently, just to let him know that he was still there.

“... sorry...” Thorin muttered after a moment, sounding more than a little embarrassed. Bilbo sighed, moving to kneel behind him and drape his arms over his shoulders.

“Thorin, it’s alright. You don’t need to be ashamed of having emotions, least of all around me. I want to marry you, and that means I am more than willing to help you- in fact, I  _ want  _ to. But I can’t do that unless you let me in. Let me help you.”

“Bilbo...” After a few seconds, Thorin turned his head, revealing a tiny, shaky smile. “You are truly a blessing,  _ azyungel.” _

Bilbo smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“I love you too. And I mean it, I want you to tell me when- when you have a nightmare, or you’re just... not feeling well. Promise me that from now on, you’ll tell me about things like this?”

Thorin nodded, then pulled away, turning around on the bed so that he could hug Bilbo properly.

“I... I will endeavor to do so. It... I want to be honest with you, Bilbo, but I have been keeping this to myself for so long...”

Bilbo hushed him, rubbing his back again.

“I know, dearest. I know this won’t be easy, but I still... I want you to try, and I want you to confide in me. Will you at least try?”

Thorin hesitated, then nodded.

“I will try. For you.”

Bilbo shook his head.

“For  _ you.  _ I want you to do this for yourself, Thorin, not for me. You deserve to be happy.”

Thorin’s eyes were wet again, but this time he was smiling as he kissed Bilbo’s forehead.

“I adore you, my burglar.” Another kiss, this time to Bilbo’s lips. “Always.”

Bilbo giggled against his lips, kissing him softly before remembering something and pulling back.

“Something wrong?”

Bilbo bit his lip, brushing some hair behind his ear.

“I... actually need to apologize to you about something.”

Thorin blinked, arching an eyebrow.

“About what?”

“Well... when you first came down with the fever, you were rather unwilling to go to bed, and I... I alluded to your gold sickness.” He swallowed hard, ducking his head a bit. “And I’m- I’m sorry, Thorin, it... it wasn’t fair of me to bring that up. This wasn’t... it wasn’t anything like when you were gold sick, and comparing the two was...”

He paused when he looked up, arching an eyebrow at the blank expression on Thorin’s face.

“You... have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not even a little.” Thorin smiled a bit. “But even so, I accept your apology.”

Bilbo laughed, kissing him again sweetly.

“Thank you. Now, you, my dear, need to rest a bit more.”

Thorin groaned.

“But I’ve been in bed for two days!”

“And you’ll be in bed longer if you don’t rest. Come on, the sooner you’re better the sooner you can see Frodo. He misses you, you know.”

Thorin huffed, but dutifully got back into bed with a small smile.

“... Bilbo?”

“Mm?”

Thorin flushed a bit, eyes darting to the side.

“Could... could you perhaps stay with me? Until I fall asleep, that is.”

Bilbo blinked, then smiled, leaning down to kiss his Dwarf’s forehead.

“Of course.” He laid down beside him, taking his hand. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this chapter was late again! I unfortunately came down with a cold on Thursday and wasn't able to get this done until tonight. Thank you for your continued patience!
> 
> Anyway, hooray, Thorin finally stopped bottling up his feelings! 
> 
> I mean, this definitely isn't going to be the end of his problems, even when Frodo is a young tween and stealing mushrooms he'll still have some issues to deal with, but it's a start!
> 
> Also, while I rewatched the scenes in question several times (extended edition just to be sure), I couldn't find any scenes that matched the LOTR wiki's description of the movie version of the Battle of Azanulbizar where Thrain got his finger with his Dwarven Ring of Power sliced off. I'm not sure if that was just cut for time, but I couldn't pass up the idea of "like grandfather, like grandson, twice over" ;)
> 
> That's it for this week! Again, sorry this was so late, and I'll try to be on time next time. Next update will (hopefully) be up on the 23rd. Thanks again for your patience! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	10. Chapter 9: I Love You, Can't Deny It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: allusion to past transphobia (misgendering, deadnaming, etc.)

“... Briar Bunny hop, hop, hopped over the fence and into Farmer Brown’s cabbage patch. ‘Mother told us not to go in here to-day, while the sun is still sunny,’ she said, ‘but the sun is not sunny, and so we can have lots of fun that is funny!’” Thorin paused, shifting Frodo to one arm and peeking at the end of the book. “Oh, no... she lives.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo scolded from the desk, turning in his chair to give him a look.

“This is a very tedious thing to read, _azyungel._ And I’m not entirely certain that I agree with the- the pro-trespassing message it’s laying out.”

“Pro-tres-! Keep reading, would you? Honestly, you think I’d read something like that to our infant son?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to peruse children’s stories the last time I was in the Shire,” Thorin deadpanned as he turned back to the story. “What are you working on so diligently, anyway?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Can’t I look at what’s been keeping you so busy?”

“Mind your own business, darling. It’s not ready yet, in any case.”

“Ready for what?”

“Reading!” Bilbo chirped as he turned the page. Thorin rolled his eyes, shifting Frodo in his arms.

“Fine, then, keep your secrets.”

In truth, Thorin didn’t mind waiting for whatever Bilbo was working on so diligently, whether it be the book or whatever it was that he’d been sneaking off to do with Kili. He’d been worried when he first saw the bandages on his lover’s hands, and even more when Bilbo had refused to tell him about it, but Bilbo insisted that he was fine, it was a surprise and he’d like what he had in store for him, and well... the light in his eyes had been more than enough to convince him to hold his tongue.

Though the fact that once the bandages came off they stayed off helped with that.

“Oh, by the way, Dain’s company should be arriving tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s- wait, Dain’s company?”

Thorin arched an eyebrow as Frodo started grabbing at the pages of the book, clearly not caring for Thorin’s reading so much as he wanted to see the pictures.

“Yes? Dain, his family, and a few other representatives from the Blue Mountains are coming to observe Frodo being formally declared a member of the line of Durin. Didn’t I tell you?”

Bilbo furrowed his brow, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You did, but I seem to recall you saying you weren’t going to hold a traditional ceremony for him.”

“No, I said that we wouldn’t be able to perform certain ceremonies because he’s too old for them. For instance, he won’t have a _brith mahil,_ since that is usually done at eight days and he is nearly a year old.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose.

“I still wish you hadn’t told me what that was.”

“And I still can’t believe you thought it looked that way naturally, especially since mine was not the first you saw.”

“Excuse me, but the others I’ve seen belonged to _Hobbits_ , not Dwarves!” Bilbo argued, ears bright red.

“I seem to recall at least a few others being in your line of sight the first time we bathed on the journey.”

Bilbo squawked, the rest of his face flooding red with indignation.

“I most certainly did not look long enough to-!” Bilbo huffed, crossing his arms. “You’re certainly smug about this, considering you barely knew how mine _worked_ at first!”

Thorin’s own face began to burn, and he cleared his throat as he looked away.

“F... Fair enough.”

Frodo giggled, then yawned, resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder with a tiny sigh. Thorin smiled, closing the book and moving to cradle his son properly. He heard Bilbo sigh contentedly, followed by the sound of the chair scooting against the floor.

“Well, I think it’s time for someone’s nap, which means that it’s time for me to head back to work with Kili, and time for your appointment with Gandalf.”

Thorin sighed, perhaps a bit too dramatically, as Bilbo took a dozing Frodo from him.

“Thorin, you said yourself that talking to someone is helping.”

“I know, and it is, but... does it _have_ to be the wizard? I can never tell what he’s thinking.”

“You wanted someone impartial, dearest. Gandalf may be prone to meddling, but you and I both know that there is no one better at keeping secrets.” Bilbo leaned in, kissing his temple. “Whatever you tell him, it will be kept in the utmost confidence.”

Thorin sighed once more, but smiled all the same as he pulled Bilbo down for a quick kiss on the lips.

“Right as always, beloved.”

Just as he said that, there was a knock on the door. Bilbo smiled as he gathered up his materials, nodding at Gandalf as Alfin opened the door for him.

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Bilbo said politely as he carried a snoring Frodo out of Thorin’s room. Alfin nodded curtly before closing the door, and then Gandalf and Thorin were alone once more.

“So, then,” Gandalf started cheerfully. “Shall we begin?”

Thorin resisted the urge to sigh.

 

* * *

 

“You’re certain that this is good enough?”

Kili nodded, his smile a little tight, and quite honestly Bilbo couldn’t blame him for that- they’d been working on this for over a week, and this was the first of five attempts that was actually ring shaped.

“Trust me, Uncle Bilbo, I know what this is supposed to look like. I may be young, but I’m still a master silversmith.” He shrugged. “Also, Uncle Thorin is the one who taught me, so if he has complaints he has only himself to blame.”

“First, I don’t think that’s how it works, and second, do you think he won’t like it?”

Kili scoffed, gesturing at the rejected, mangled previous attempts.

“Bilbo, you could give him one of those and he’d love it. You could give him literally anything and he’d love it, because _you_ gave it to him.”

Bilbo flushed, brushing some hair behind his ear.

“I’m... I’m sure he would, but- but tradition states that it needs to be a master work, doesn’t it?”

“Tradition also states that Thorin should have married a noble Dwarrowdam when he came of age, and we both know that he would have _hated_ that. It doesn’t have to be flawless, it just has to be something you made.” Kili paused. “Which I suppose means you could ask using Frodo, if you think about it.”

Bilbo barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I-I don’t think Frodo counts, considering Thorin helped make him.”

Kili made a face, then shook his head.

“Alright, nevermind that, there’s still work to be done. What stone did you want to use for the inset?”

“Ah, well, I was thinking sapphires might bring out his-!”

There was a sudden commotion just outside Kili’s workshop, and Bilbo fumbled with the ring as shouts of Khuzdul rang out through the hall.

“What- what’s going on?” He asked as he placed the ring on the table.

Kili grinned from ear to ear as he grabbed Bilbo’s arm, tugging him along excitedly.

“Wh- Kili, hold on, what’s happening?”

“Dain’s here!” He explained as they ran through the halls. Bilbo’s stomach dropped as they approached the gates, heart pounding in his ears.

“I- I thought they weren’t arriving until tomorrow?” He managed as they came to a stop near the entrance to Erebor. Most of the company, sans Thorin and Gandalf, as well as Dis and Vili, had arrived before them, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

“Our cousin enjoys surprising people,” Dis told him, looking rather amused.

Bilbo swallowed, straightening his clothes out as best he could. He couldn’t help but feel a bit like he had the first Yuletide after he’d...

Well, after he’d started living as himself.

Hopefully this would go better.

Although frankly, someone would probably have to die in order to get much worse than his mother telling her sister-in-law just how her husband really spent his “business trips” to Bree after she’d spent the night calling Bilbo by his old name and given him a new dress.

The gates opened, and Bilbo went ramrod straight, resisting the urge to try and slip away as a troop of Dwarves of various ages entered the mountain. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d seen so much red hair, but between Gloin’s family, Bombur’s family, and Dain’s family, he was certain this was the most he’d ever seen. Fili and Kili were all but tackled by a group of young Dwarves, all of them shrieking with laughter. Dain and Dis were laughing as they hugged, followed by the seemingly traditional greeting of a headbutt.

Bilbo did his best not to wince at that. Dwarven skulls must have been shockingly thick.

“Now, where’s that brother of yours?”

“I’m afraid my brother is currently indisposed.” Dis gestured at him suddenly, and Bilbo bit back a whimper. “My soon to be brother-in-law, however, is here.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but beam at Dis calling him her brother-in-law, even if his delight was dampened when Dain walked over to him. He tried not to flinch, though he couldn’t help but recall that the last time he’d seen Dain was just after the battle, in a tent after his leg had been amputated, and he probably had heard all about how Bilbo had left the mountain- left _Thorin_ before he had the chance to wake up and make things right, and oh sweet Yavanna he should have brought his stupid magic ring-!

Bilbo’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when Dain all but scooped him up and crushed him in a hug.

“So, this is the Hobbit that saved Erebor and won my sourpuss of a cousin’s heart, eh? An honor to finally meet you properly!”

The only response Bilbo could make was a strained “urk.”

“Dain,” a familiar, amused voice called from behind them, “please don’t break Bilbo in half. I happen to like him, as does our son.”

“Ah!” Bilbo found himself on his behind quite quickly, gasping for breath as Dain stormed over to Thorin. “There you are, ye mad clod! Here I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Thorin laughed, and then there was the tell-tale _smack_ of a headbutt, one that Bilbo couldn’t help but wince at.

“Trust me, cousin, I came as soon as I was able. How was your journey?”

“Oh, as well as it can be with four little ones in tow. Which reminds me, where’s-!”

Something- or rather, someone- small raced past Bilbo, crashing into Thorin’s legs just as he stood up and turned around.

“Oakenshield!” The red-haired Dwarven child shrieked with delight. Thorin laughed, picking him up and ruffling his hair before gently bumping his forehead with his own.

“It is good to see you as well, Thorin. You have grown so much since I last saw you!”

“I told you! One day, I’m going to be taller than you!”

Bilbo frowned, turning to Dis.

“Um... why is Thorin- the younger one, I mean- calling Thorin- the older one- Oakenshield?”

Dis chuckled, shaking her head.

“It’s a joke between them. Dain swore to name his firstborn son after Thorin when we were young, and lo and behold, he did. As they are both named Thorin, the younger declared he would call him Oakenshield, because he wanted to keep his own name.” Dis grinned. “Since he was but a babe of nine years at the time, and my brother has never been able to deny any child anything, he agreed to that.”

Bilbo blinked, then smiled, watching as both Thorins were surrounded by a gaggle of red-haired Dwarven girls.

He had thought he couldn’t love that Dwarf more.

He should ask Kili if he could set some smaller gems around the sapphire.

 

* * *

 

“Presenting Prince Frodo, firstborn son of King Thorin II, son of Thrain, son of Thror!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, and Frodo gurgled, batting at the silver circlet on his forehead. Thorin beamed, leaning down and kissing the top of his head.

“You are already so beloved, _gimlith.”_

Frodo giggled, kicking and tugging on his own robes.

“Careful, sweetling,” Bilbo warned gently, kneeling down and holding out a finger for Frodo to grab at. “You don’t want to tear those, they’re very important.”

“It is alright, Bilbo, I made sure Dori knew to make them able to withstand the hands of a curious babe.”

Bilbo gave him a look, but was smiling all the while as he picked Frodo up. Dori had done splendidly with Bilbo’s robes, and his mother’s crown looked as perfect in his honeyed curls as it had in her golden hair.

Even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be wearing it just yet, since they weren’t officially married.

But he didn’t care, and if anyone did, they hadn’t raised an objection to it. Nor did anyone object during the banquet, although he was certain that a few council members had meant to, and had only been discouraged when Dis, Vili, Fili, or Kili had distracted them.

Thorin found he didn’t mind so much. He was able to spend time with his son and beloved thanks to them, after all.

“What are you looking at?” Bilbo asked, pulling Thorin out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring at me again,” he clarified. Thorin blinked, then smiled, leaning in and kissing him gently.

“I like looking at you, that’s all.”

Bilbo blushed, rolling his eyes even as a smile graced his lips.

Then he hesitated.

“Um. Thorin.”

Thorin arched an eyebrow.

“Is... everything alright?”

“Ah- um, yes, it’s- well. I... may I speak to you in... in private?”

Thorin blinked, furrowing his brow.

“I suppose so. Dwalin, keep an eye on Frodo?”

Dwalin grumbled something about not being a baby-sitter, although the smile that spread across his lips when Frodo started patting the top of his head belied his true feelings. He took Bilbo’s hand, allowing his lover to lead him away from the crowd and into an empty room. Bilbo’s ears were bright red, his face angled toward the floor.

“Bilbo?”

“A-Ah, um...” Bilbo bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot and sticking his hand in his pocket. “I. Well. I... Thorin, I love you.”

Thorin blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“I... love you too? Is that all you wanted to say, because you’ve told me you love me in front of others before...”

Bilbo shook his head, pulling his fist out of his pocket before hiding it behind his back.

“No, that’s not... um, well, I... I’ve been working on something for... for you.” He held out his fist, then opened it to reveal a silvery sapphire ring. “It... it is crafted by mine own hand. My heart is yours, if you will have it.”

With those words, it finally dawned on Thorin what Bilbo was trying to ask. His own face began to burn, lips twisting into a smile he was helpless to fight.

“Bilbo,” he murmured as he stepped into his lover’s space, cupping his cheek with one of his hands. “Is this what you’ve been working on with Kili?”

“Yes, I... I wanted to, to do this properly.” He looked up at Thorin, eyes shining. “In... in the Shire, it’s traditional to, to propose using a ring... usually a diamond, but, well, I thought sapphire suited you more, and the ring’s not usually silver but, well, you’re a silversmith, so I thought-!”

He went silent as Thorin took the ring from him, shifting nervously as Thorin examined it.

It wasn’t a perfect ring- not even all around, a little thin in places, and the gems would probably have to be reset sooner or later. The sapphire itself was a bit oddly shaped, and he wasn’t quite sure why he chose to use moonstone, other than the fact that it looked rather pretty.

It was definitely not a ring Thorin would have made. He could only imagine how a master jeweler like Kili must have felt looking at it.

But Thorin _adored_ it, because Bilbo had taken the time and effort to make it for him, even though he’d never crafted anything in his life like it and probably never would again.

With a small smile, he slipped it on, unsurprised when it fit perfectly.

“I am honored by this gift,” he murmured, moving to cradle Bilbo’s face in his hands. “And I will give you my heart in return for yours.”

Bilbo blinked once, twice, three times before his eyes went wide, face lighting up.

“You... you mean...?”

Thorin laughed softly, leaning in and kissing him gently.

“Bilbo, of _course_ I will marry you. You have saved me, more times and in more ways than I can count. You have given me a _child,_ something I had long since given up on. You mean the world to me. Did you truly think I’d say no?”

Bilbo laughed sheepishly, leaning into Thorin’s touch.

“Not... not exactly, but, well... I was a bit nervous, I’m afraid. I’ve never proposed to anyone before, you know!”

Thorin laughed a little louder this time, shaking his head.

“I should hope that this will be the only time, beloved.”

“Oh, it will be. You aren’t going to be rid of me easily, Thorin Oakenshield, not after all we’ve been through.”

Thorin grinned, kissing him once more.

“I should expect nothing less, _ghivashel.”_

Bilbo beamed, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck.

“You know, I think I’ve thought up an ending for my book.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hm.” He got up on his toes, kissing Thorin again. “And they lived happily ever after, to the end of their days.”

Thorin smiled, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating in the middle of the night cause I promised myself I'd update before the New Year, yeah~
> 
> Sorry about the hiatus, folks! In summary: grad school sucks post midterms, and my grandpa's health has been... not great. He is at least not in the hospital right now, which is more than can be said about two days ago. 
> 
> A few notes: brith mahil is my (admittedly not great) attempt at a Dwarven version of the brit milah ceremony, also known as a bris. Since Tolkien borrowed a lot from Hebrew and Jewish culture in general when creating the Dwarves, I figured it wouldn't be too out of place for them to have something similar. I did look for quite a while to see if there was a term for this already, but there's really not a lot about Dwarven babies, or at least, not that I found. Related to that, since circumcision doesn't seem to be much of a thing in Europe outside of religious reasons, I figured that Hobbits probably don't practice it. 
> 
> Why did I put so much world-building energy into this.
> 
> Also, the idea of Gandalf sort of acting as Thorin's therapist came from a fic that for the life of me I can't remember the title of. It was very good, tho.
> 
> That's it for this chapter! There's still a few left to go, maybe three or four. Hopefully longer than this one, lmao. Thank you so much for all your support, and I will try to have the next chapter up by the 13th!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	11. Chapter 10: And Back Again

Frodo’s first birthday came and went with little fanfare, outside of a slight misunderstanding regarding gift-giving. Bilbo had planned to give the others gifts on Frodo’s behalf, as was customary for Hobbitlings under the age of ten, but found himself rather shocked when he brought Frodo downstairs and discovered a pile of gifts larger than Bombur waiting for him.

In the end, presents were both given by Frodo and given to Frodo, although Bilbo insisted that in the future, Frodo should only receive gifts on Yule. 

He had a feeling no one would follow that rule, especially with how excited Frodo got about the toys. He would admit, it  _ was  _ rather cute.

 

* * *

 

Kili and Tauriel married a month after Frodo’s birthday. It was a rather low-key affair, mainly because Tauriel didn’t know what a wedding was and had no opinions either way. Apparently, she and Kili had been married “according to Elven tradition” since Kili had been declared recovered after the Battle of the Five Armies.

Bilbo didn’t know what that meant, but considering how red Kili turned when Tauriel explained, he was fairly certain he didn’t want to ask.

In any case, Tauriel and Kili’s wedding proved a good way for Bilbo to learn what to expect from a Dwarven wedding. For example, to announce the wedding Fili had blown a horn in the halls of the royal family, which was explained to Bilbo as a tradition where a friend of the groom would blow a horn in the halls of the bride’s family, though since Tauriel had no family or halls it ended up just being in the halls she lived in. There was a (ridiculously long) contract reading, after which there was several minutes of cheering from the Dwarrows, though Thorin told him that, had Tauriel had her own family, it might have been longer, as no one would have wanted to be out-cheered by the other side.

Honestly. Dwarves.

The rest of the ceremony was rather familiar to Bilbo, with the bride and groom reciting blessings and vows, but just before they kissed, there was an odd moment where Kili crushed a bottle underfoot, followed by a cheer from the family. 

“What was that for?” Bilbo asked at the feast after the ceremony. “The bottle breaking, I mean.”

“Ah, it’s a newer addition to the ceremony,” Thorin explained. “It’s meant to remind us that there cannot be joy without sadness, to remember those who we lost when the dragon came.”

“That... seems a bit out of place at a wedding.”

Thorin shrugged.

“It is important to remember our roots, so that the fact that we have come as far as we have does not lose meaning.”

Bilbo blinked, then smiled, taking Thorin’s hand and squeezing it gently.

“Well... just be careful when you do it at our wedding, yeah? Wouldn’t want to start our wedded life together with you having glass in your foot.”

Thorin gave him an indignant look, and Bilbo just laughed before giving him a kiss.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, after being examined by a healer from Rivendell, Tauriel announced that she was expecting twins. Bilbo was overjoyed, but when he congratulated Kili, all he got was a very confused question as to what, exactly, “twins” were.

It took a few hours to explain the concept of having more than one baby to most of the dwarves, as well as reassuring them that no, Tauriel would not explode if she carried two children to term. Once that was explained, Kili was as excited as anyone else, although it did hit him a few days later that instead of just one baby, he was now going to have  _ two  _ babies to take care of. At the same time.

It was no small wonder that the poor boy fainted again.

 

* * *

 

Shortly after that, it was announced to the people of Erebor that Thorin would be stepping down from the throne. There was, of course, an inevitable outcry, with more than a few accusations of Thorin abandoning the populace to languish under an inexperienced child being thrown out. Those, of course, died down a bit when it was announced that Dis would be taking over as regent until such a time as Fili was ready to rule on his own, but there were still plenty of Dwarrows who weren’t pleased with the change.

And made that displeasure known. Repeatedly. Bilbo eventually had to convince Thorin to put limits on how many times a single Dwarf could come to open court a week. 

Thankfully, the majority of them calmed down within a month or two, which was right around when Thorin and Bilbo were finally married. It was beautiful, if not quite as elegant as Kili and Tauriel’s, mainly thanks to the fact that Frodo did not like the little outfit he’d been put into, and was overall rather bored with the whole ceremony. 

Something that he made very clear. Throughout the ceremony. Loudly.

Bilbo wouldn’t have had it any other way.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Durin’s Day arrived, and with it, the day of Thorin ceding the crown to his sister. It was the first time Bilbo had seen Thorin in his crown since... well, since just before the Battle of the Five Armies. 

He wasn’t sure who was more relieved when Balin took it, him or Thorin. Rather than placing it on Dis’ head, though, it was placed on a pedestal next to the throne, as if to say that that part of Erebor’s history was over and done with, to be moved past but not forgotten. Dis’ crown was a similar design to the original, but cast in mithril rather than gold. As she took her place on the throne, Bilbo thought she looked as though she belonged there, as if she were always meant to lead Erebor and her people. 

It was perfect.

 

* * *

 

Winter passed in relative peace. Dale’s reconstruction slowed in the face of the cold and snow, but it had progressed quite well even since Bilbo had arrived. Relations with the men were as smooth as they’d ever been, and even the Elves seemed less hostile then they once had.

Though, given that the relationship in question was between Erebor and Mirkwood, “less hostile” was a relative term.

Still, things were peaceful for once.

Then, just before the frost thawed, Tauriel gave birth to her and Kili’s twins. To the chagrin of many a Dwarrow, a healer from Mirkwood was allowed into the mountain, due to the fact that Oin didn’t have enough knowledge of Elven biology to comfortably deliver the children. Still, few complained once the babies were born, a healthy, happy pair of tiny Dwarf-Elf children, or as Fili insisted on calling them, “Dwelfs.”

Predictably, the only one who found that funny was Kili.

The older baby was a girl, born with the same dark head of hair that Frodo had. She was not thrilled about being born, and made her displeasure very clear even after being placed into her father’s arms.

“My baby hates me!” Kili wailed, almost managing to drown out the sound of said baby crying. 

“No she doesn’t, Kili, she’s been alive for less than five minutes,” Fili told him. “Seriously, stop crying, we’re already going to have another crying baby in here soon enough.”

“Soon enough” turned out to be about fifteen minutes. The girl’s brother came into the world without a peep, the delivery room going into a flurry of panicked activity. Thankfully, the boy was brought around soon enough, and he joined his sister in crying.

The girl was named Authiel, a name meaning “battle-maiden” in Sindarin. Considering she’d spent her short life so far screaming and protesting being born, Bilbo had to say it was a fitting name.

The boy was named Frerin.

It took quite some time for Thorin and Dis to stop crying.

 

* * *

 

Another month passed, and the snow finally melted away, which meant...

Well, it meant that Bilbo, Frodo, and Thorin’s time under the mountain was at an end. A feast was held to see them off, with more than a little crying on the parts of most of the company. Promises were made to come and visit on both ends, and by the time they finally set off with Gandalf, Bilbo was starting to wonder if he really would need to expand Bag End to accommodate all the guests he might have.

The journey back was as quiet as Bilbo’s first journey home had been, though thankfully with less morning sickness on his part. He did worry for a moment, during their short stay at Mirkwood, that Thorin and Thranduil would end up having an explosive row that ended with them imprisoned once more, consequences be damned, but that was quickly resolved when Frodo simply did what he did best: be extraordinarily adorable and distract everyone with his babbling.

“You should be a diplomat when you grow up, sweetling,” Bilbo told him that night as he was putting him to bed, “you’d probably avert a fair amount of wars, you know.”

Frodo responded by blowing bubbles with his spit.

From there, there were no real incidents to speak of, save for a few wayward orcs here and there. Thorin  _ did  _ look like he might die of embarrassment upon learning that Beorn had known about their tryst in his shed, but Bilbo found he wasn’t all that sympathetic, since he’d had to find out why Beorn was unsurprised about his and Thorin’s relationship all on his own. Other than that, though, it was an easy journey, or as easy as a journey with a small child could be in any case.

Until the rain started. It began pouring just outside of Bree, a sudden deluge that took out the old Brandywine Bridge, meaning that they were stuck in Bree until it was fixed, unless they wanted to try and brave the flooded river.

“And I seem to recall that the last time we were in a river,  _ ghivashel,  _ you clung to me and yelled about how ‘Hobbits aren’t buoyant,’” Thorin teased. Bilbo squawked, swatting his shoulder indignantly. 

“Well, we’re not!”

Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, it seems that you’ll simply have to stay here for the time being, then,” he said as he got up from the table. “As for me, well, I’ll have to be off.”

“Already?”

“I’m afraid I have something to attend to. I was hoping to accompany you to at least the boundaries of the Shire, but I must be going.” 

“I see... well, feel free to visit whenever you’re in the area. Tea’s at four.”

Gandalf nodded, then turned away to head for the door. Bilbo sighed, then turned to his husband, only to find that Thorin had gotten up from their table and was walking after Gandalf.

“Tharkun!”

Gandalf paused, eyebrow arched as he turned back towards Thorin. For a moment, both were silent, and Bilbo held his breath, wondering just what his husband was up to.

Then Thorin stuck his hand out towards the wizard.

“... Thank you. For everything.”

Gandalf blinked, then smiled, shaking Thorin’s hand.

“Of course.”

Bilbo smiled, adjusting a sleeping Frodo in his arms as Thorin came back to their table.

“That was very nice of you, dearest.”

Thorin grunted as he took a swig of his ale.

“Have you ever known me to let a debt go unacknowledged,  _ azyungel?” _

Bilbo blinked, then rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

A week passed before the rain finally stopped. Another passed before the bridge was repaired, and by that point Bilbo could definitively say that he had had enough of Bree for a lifetime.

“As much fun as this trip has been, I’ll be happy to sleep in my own bed again,” Bilbo said as they settled into bed the last night before they left for the Shire. 

“Mm,” Thorin agreed noncommittally. Bilbo frowned, cupping his husband’s cheek.

“Everything alright, Thorin?”

“M’fine.”

“Thorin. We’re married. I know you. What’s the matter?”

Thorin hesitated, then sighed, curling up a bit.

“... do... do you think I’ll be alright? In the Shire, I mean.”

Bilbo blinked.

“Of course you’ll be alright. We’ll be together, everything will be fine.”

Thorin smiled, but shook his head.

“I know, but that’s not what I meant. Do you think that... that your neighbors and family will like me?”

Bilbo blinked once more, then shrugged.

“Honestly? I think most people will take some time to warm up to you, but there’ll be plenty who don’t like you, no matter what you do.”

Thorin’s face fell.

“I see... is it because I’m an outsider?”

Bilbo sighed, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“Perhaps, but I think it’ll be mostly because you’re my husband. There are more than just a few people in the Shire who don’t like me, whether because they disliked my mother, or because I ran off one day following a bunch of Dwarves, or because... well, because I’m Reborn, even if that’s not the word they’d use.”

Thorin blinked, then frowned, uncurling and tugging Bilbo closer. 

“If that’s the case, then I’d rather not be held in their esteem at all.”

Bilbo laughed, kissing his husband sweetly.

“I love you too, Thorin.”

Thorin smiled, then frowned, eyes turning serious.

“Bilbo?”

“Mm?”

“If... if someone bothers you about that, I want you to tell me.”

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow.

“Thorin, I’ve been dealing with this for-!”

“I’m not saying you can’t deal with it, I just... you’re my husband. I worry about you, and I want you to be happy. I want you to be respected, to feel comfortable.”

Bilbo blinked again, then smiled, kissing Thorin again.

“Alright, but you do the same. Of course, I doubt anyone with more than a bit of sense would try to antagonize you, but still.”

Thorin blinked.

“Why not?”

“... Thorin. Sweetheart. Have you seen your arms?”

Thorin looked so adorably baffled at that that Bilbo just  _ had  _ to kiss him again.

 

* * *

 

The Shire looked quite different in the light, Thorin noted. Easier to see, for one- both Erebor and the Blue Mountains had torches scattered around pathways to light them at night, but the only lights in the Shire came from houses and buildings, which was why it had been so easy to get lost, despite, as Bilbo had noted many, many times when teasing him, only having one real road.

There were also a lot more Hobbits out and about, which made sense considering it was the middle of the day.

They kept staring at him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Bilbo’s home looked different in the light as well. He hadn’t quite appreciated just how much of the hill Bag End took up that first night, how big it was. 

Frodo would have a wonderful childhood here.

“Oh, good Green Lady,” he heard Bilbo mumble as the cart pulled up in front of Bag End. Before Thorin could ask Bilbo what was wrong, his husband hopped off the cart, opening up the gate and storming up the steps. “Lobelia, how lovely to see you.”

Ah. So the orange-clad woman was the famous Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Be on your guard, Frodo,” Thorin advised, only half-joking, “this is an enemy the likes of which you and I have never faced before.”

Frodo made a face that was much more cute than intimidating, and Thorin laughed, ruffling his hair before taking off his coat.

“Alright,  _ gimlith,  _ let’s get inside before Da starts a fight with his cousin, hm?”

Frodo cooed as Thorin picked him up with one arm, reaching for his marriage braid as Thorin tucked a bag under his other arm. 

“... disappearing so often, and with a child in tow this time! Bad enough you’ve lost all respectability, now you’re being irresponsible!”

“Lobelia, I have never once critiqued how you’ve been raising Lotho, I should think you’d have the common decency to-!”

“Bilbo?” Thorin interrupted as quickly as he could, hoping to cool off whatever row this was building up to. “Where should I put this? I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with the layout of your home as you are. Oh, hello, miss.”

Lobelia’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at him, face and ears going red for some reason.

“Thorin, where’s your coat?”

“Hm? Oh, I took it off, it’s a bit warmer here than I’m used to. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Here, let me take Frodo.” Bilbo had an odd smile on his face as he took their child, turning back to Lobelia as he bounced the babe in his arms. “Ah, now, where are my manners? Lobelia, this is my husband, Thorin Oakenshield. He also happens to be Frodo’s other father.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, even though it wasn’t- he’d heard plenty about how awful this woman had been to his husband all through their lives, and he didn’t care to make a habit of spending time with her.

Lobelia simply gaped at them. Thorin furrowed his brow.

“Are... you alright, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Bilbo interrupted smoothly, opening the door to their home. “Just put that down next to the door, dearest. Oh, and could you head next door? I’m sure Hamfast would be happy to help us unload.”

Thorin frowned, but shrugged, putting the bag down next to the door.

“Lovely to meet you, ma’am,” he told her before heading down the steps. 

“... that... that was your...?” He heard Lobelia start after a moment.

“Mm-hm. Give my regards to your dear husband, would you? Have a lovely day, Lobelia.”

Thorin heard her scoff, and when he looked over his shoulder he saw her storming down the steps, still bright red in the face.

Perhaps Hobbits didn’t handle heat well. That would explain why Mrs. Gamgee also turned bright red when she saw him.

Though it didn’t explain why she kept looking at his arms. Or why she swatted her husband on the shoulder when he noticed her red face and started chuckling. 

“Lovely to finally meet you in any case, Master Oakenshield,” Master Gamgee told him as they started unloading the cart.

“Likewise, Master Gamgee. Although, bit of advice, calling me ‘Master Oakenshield’ might get you some odd looks from other Dwarrow.”

Master Gamgee blinked, furrowing his brow.

“Isn’t... isn’t Oakenshield your family name, though?”

“No, it is a title I earned in battle. Dwarves don’t have family names, or at least, not in the way that Hobbits or Men do.” He grunted as he placed the box containing his harp into the sitting room. “Just ‘Master Thorin’ is fine.”

Master Gamgee blinked, then suddenly coughed, clearing his throat a few times before straightening.

“Right then, Master... er, Master Thorin. Shall we get to it, then?”

Thorin nodded, rolling his shoulders as he headed for the door.

He couldn’t help but wonder why Master Gamgee seemed to be snickering behind him, though.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo sighed as he closed the door to his home, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Well, we still have quite a bit to unpack, but at least it’s all inside.”

Thorin hummed as he put his arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I think we can leave at least some of the packing until after dinner, don’t you? Frodo will only nap for so long, may as well have something to eat when he wakes.”

Bilbo gave his husband a look.

“Are you that excited about having another round of the soup I made you when we first met, or do you just not want to unpack?”

Thorin shrugged.

“Bit of both, if I’m honest. How about I help you with it?”

“Since when can you cook?”

Thorin puffed his chest out. 

“I’ll have you know that my rabbit stew is renowned throughout the Blue Mountains.”

“Oh, really? Is it that good, or do you simply only know how to make that dish?”

Thorin choked, turning a bit pink and grinning sheepishly. Bilbo snorted, pressing a kiss to his cheek and leading him into the kitchen.

“Lucky for you, that particular recipe isn’t overly complicated. It’s a perfect dish for a beginner.”

Thorin pouted, but took the apron that Bilbo held out to him and slipping it on before going to wash his hands carefully. 

“Hamfast seemed to like you,” Bilbo told him as he started chopping up the carrots. “Dice the tomatoes, please.”

“Master Gamgee seems an honorable sort.” Thorin paused. “Though, he did seem perturbed by something when I was speaking to him.”

“Hm?”

“Yes. He first addressed me as ‘Master Oakenshield,’ and when I told him to simply call me ‘Master Thorin,’ he seemed to find it... amusing?”

Bilbo blinked, then snorted, shaking his head.

“Oh, that’s... I’m sorry, sweetheart, I suppose I should have told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Well... I know that Dwarves don’t have family names, so addressing each other as ‘Master’ with a first name is the norm, but for Hobbits, well... that form of address is usually reserved for the child of an employer.”

“... Come again?”

Bilbo swallowed a snicker, unable to keep from smirking.

“W-Well, to put it plainly, you asked Hamfast to refer to you as he would Frodo.”

“Wh- well, why would a child be referred to as ‘master’ anything in the first place!”

“We don’t use ‘master’ to refer to a master of a craft, Thorin, it’s just a matter of respect.” He put his knife down, turning to his husband and putting a hand on his arm. “Really, now, I’m sure Hamfast realized that it’s a difference in culture, or he will if you explain it to him.”

Thorin huffed, but let some of the tension leak out of his shoulders.

“I suppose... still, if that is how Hobbits address children, how should I ask to be addressed?”

Bilbo smiled, putting his hand on top of Thorin’s.

“Hm... how about, from now on, you tell people to call you ‘Master Baggins?’”

Thorin blinked, quirking an eyebrow.

“... but...  _ you’re  _ Master Baggins, aren’t you?”

“Ah, but you’re my husband. By Shire Law, that makes  _ you  _ ‘Master Baggins’ as well.”

Thorin blinked again, then smiled, putting his knife down and turning to put his hands on Bilbo’s hips.

“I am honored to share your name, Master Baggins.”

“Oh, no, the honor is all mine, Master Baggins.”

They both burst into giggles, leaning on each other and swaying in the kitchen. Thorin pressed a kiss into his hair, and Bilbo responded by pulling him down for a proper, if giggly, kiss on the lips.

Which was when Frodo started crying.

“Your turn,” Thorin said quickly, taking up his knife and returning to the tomatoes.

“Wh- Hey!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can u tell that I love cultural misunderstandings lmao
> 
> Almost at the end of this story! At most, there should be two more chapters, one showing Frodo growing up and one basically adapting the first half of Fellowship and the very end of Return of the King into this universe. Thank you all so much for your support so far! 
> 
> Next chapter should be out on the 27th. Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
